


Subterfuge

by bunsterjonez



Series: Subterfuge [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Civil War Fix-It, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Minor Character Death, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Swearing, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 74,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunsterjonez/pseuds/bunsterjonez
Summary: You fell in with the wrong crowd as a subterfuge intelligence hacker. But you’re given a second chance… until your thirst for secrets finds you in hot water with both HYDRA and SHIELD. With no shortage of enemies after you, and a new plan in place, you try to rebuild – but you find that outrunning your past is harder than it looks. (Slow burn Bucky x Reader, begins prior to the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier)





	1. Chapter 1

_Out of time; fish and ditch it_ , you said to yourself as you peeled running through the tight alleys of New York, sidestepping rubble and homeless encampments on the way. Skidding to a stop and almost slamming into the grey brick wall from the momentum, you squeezed through a tight space between the wall, ran down a flight of stairs and yanked off a strip of wallpaper, revealing a blue lit keypad. You jammed the code in and opened the door, only to find Bug’s scruffy face illuminated by the tiny TV in the corner, the only source of light in the room, fast asleep. Two pundits on the screen were arguing about the Avengers again; the media had been debating about whether Stark’s merry band of heroes had either helped of hindered the USA’s security after the battle of New York. Based on you current line of work, safe to say it was the latter.

“Get up dickweed, we gotta bail” you whispered urgently, startling Bug awake.

“Wha..?” his bleary eyes clearing as he focused on you, while you rushed around the dark room, stripping cables, and breaking PC towers open; grabbing drives, disks, and as much valuable data as you could manage. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?!?” He stood to grab your arm brusquely in the middle of your frenzy.

“They’re coming!” you turned to him, a wild expression in your face. “So unless you want to be doing 35 to life, help me grab all this shit and get ready to run.” The plan called for you each to spread out the data cache and drop it in separate locations. One random backpack with seemingly spare parts was useless to law enforcement, and if either of you got caught, you’d have plausible deniability about the other one’s drop points. You had no idea where Bug would dump his stash, and he didn’t know yours, and if you were questioned, nobody knew each other’s real names anyway.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Bug began ripping down the maps and logistic notes from the walls, turning off the TV and for some reason grabbing it off the stand. “Where’s Novak?”

“Probably in the same squad car as Leen and Zev,” you stuck a flash drive into the router and opened a small netbook. “Why d’you think I’m the one who woke up your sorry ass?” You ran the command for a quick encryption and a proxy router to try and buy you some time.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!”

“Bug, just shut up, leave the TV and start clean up, they can’t find a single hair strand, get me?!” You closed the last of the bags, set them by the door, and closed the netbook, while Bug opened up a cabinet under the kitchenette and grabbed an ammonia bottle, throwing you a second one. The room was a small studio, but you both had been working out of this space for weeks. You couldn’t afford to miss a single spot.

“Bug, just shut up, leave the TV and start clean up, they can’t find a single hair strand, get me?!” You closed the last of the bags, set them by the door, and closed the netbook, while Bug opened up a cabinet under the kitchenette and grabbed an ammonia bottle, throwing you a second one. The room was a small studio, but you both had been working out of this space for weeks. You couldn’t afford to miss a single spot.

“Set the rig,” you told Bug, running another program. He set a small device on the door, right behind the keypad lock, and you both ran out, each with 3 backpacks on hand. At the foot of the stairs you turned to him again.

“You know the plan.” He nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

“Headed anywhere in particular?” he asked.

“If I told you…” you trailed off with a smirk. Bug chuckled, “Right.” You smacked his arm playfully. “Watch your back”.

You both went up the stairs and split up, Bug running North, you went West. As soon as you turned a corner a block away, you heard them. Sirens. Hoping Bug had made a clean getaway, you jumped into an old crusty Volvo stashed in an alley not far away. There was only one more thing to do.

Flipping open the netbook once again, you clicked “enter”. The screen prompt changed from ‘Standby’ to ‘Armed’. You reached under the seat and grabbed a police scanner, connected it to your netbook, and flipped through multiple frequencies until you found the one you were looking for.

“One suspect in custody, apprehended north side. Team Bravo going in.”

“FUCK!” you couldn’t help yourself, as you threw the scanner and netbook on the passenger side of the car, turned it on, and backed up the alley to drive as far away as you could. You had 2 hours to dump your cargo and Bug was toast. You couldn’t get caught with all this shit on you, you’d never see the light of day again. Especially after the–

–BOOM–

You slammed your foot on the gas and peeled out onto the main avenues. If you crossed 53rd you could make it to the next borough in time, maybe start building up an alibi and have enough time to wipe your footprint off the map.

You didn’t see it until the headlights flashed on right behind you: a dark van slammed the back of the Volvo, and a second one blocked your way in the front. Dazed from the whiplash, your tried to blink the grogginess away, reaching over to your netbook and yanking off a piece; a safeguard you had installed to corrupt all data and processes from the machine if removed or tampered with. It was useless now. You heard shouts as the driver’s door opened.

“Out of the car, put your hands up!”

You sighed and held them up. “Fuck me.”

***

“I want a lawyer.”

The red haired Detective laughed. “What’s the use? All your buddies threw you under the bus.”

FBI rulebook was always the same, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t about to fold, you knew better.

“I don’t have any _buddies_.” you said fiercely.

“You got that right,” this time Good Cop spoke up, dark hair, a stack of files in hand. “Every single one of your hacker pals basically said you were the brains of the operation”. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, but you still knew your rights. There was a plan, and you all followed it, that was the rule. It wasn’t over yet.

“I want a lawyer,” you repeated, each word oozing with disdain at the pair.

Redhead rolled her eyes. “Oh for god’s sake,” she said as she yanked the files from Good Cop and started throwing them one by one in front of you. “Lauren ‘Leen’ Correa, Christoph ‘Zev’ Yevgeny , Freidrich ‘Novak’ Normandie, Hammond ‘Bug’ Fields” she crossed her arms, all files opened on each one of the ops team. So much for anonymity. “Four signatures, clear as day. LOOK”, she slammed her hand down on the papers in front of you when you didn’t react.

You stayed still. The chair you were sitting on was suddenly too cold and hard, but you felt like you were boiling from the inside. You had stuck to the damn plan, the plan they had all agreed on and ran a million times, and these fucking bastards just decided to screw you over. You wondered which one was the first to squeal. Probably Zev. You never trusted him and he knew it.

“You still want that lawyer now?” Redhead smirked. You didn’t move, just swallowed hard. This was it, you’d be stuck in the hole for the rest of your life… at least until some crazed Patriot guard marked you as a “traitor to your Country” and gave you a quicker end. Prison would not be kind to you.

The door behind you opened and a sharply dressed man, face lined with time, and full head of white blonde hair stood in the frame.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, casually strolling into the room and standing opposite you. You held his gaze. “I think we can come to an arrangement,” he said, smiling at you.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“My name is Alexander Pierce. And you, are out of options.”

You leaned back on your chair, still looking into those deep blue eyes. He was guarded; his features warm, but his expression wasn’t exactly genuine. Practiced. Maybe CIA or NSA. This you’d heard about, too. Hackers turned into reformed government pawns for the rest of their lives. Exactly the opposite of everything you’d stood for. Freedom of information shouldn’t have consequences for citizens aiming for the truth, you had made it your mission to make it available to any interested party. Sure, you made a bit of profit on the side, but that was basic enterprise. It was relatively nothing compared to the massive financial transactions the government signed off on on the regular, at the expense of their own citizens’ dime.

“You here for an offer I can’t refuse?” you smirked.

“Oh you’re free to refuse it, if you wish,” he smiled back, gesturing to Redhead and Good Cop to close the door behind them as they left. “I’m sure a self-proclaimed ‘freedom fighter’ like yourself will find a way to thrive behind bars.”

“As opposed to…?” You shot back. “A prison by any other name is still a prison.”

Pierce looked at you with those knowing eyes. You knew it wouldn’t work out for you if you underestimated him. He could sense your fear, and even worse: you knew he’d use it to get you to do anything he wanted. But there was a reason he was here, preying on your vulnerability, after being used by Novak and dumped like yesterday’s trash.

“You don’t have the advantage of being on foreign soil, Y/N Y/L/N.” He measured his words, scanning your face for a reaction. You hadn’t told him your name, but he knew it nonetheless. “Not that avoiding extradition would be of any help to you, you’ve managed to… frustrate enough of the World’s governments with your impressive work.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “As if that would be a problem,” you muttered, loud enough for Pierce to hear.

“I don’t doubt your resourcefulness,” he continued, grabbing a chair and sitting down across from you, leaning back on it casually. “But extortion, arson, and theft are not protected under the Whistleblower Protection Act, you know,” you sighed, lowering your gaze as he continued, “among other things. By all intents and purposes, you’re a radicalized domestic terrorist who has endangered the security of our great Nation. Or at least that is what the District Attorney will say at your trial.” You looked up and he fixed you with that knowing stare again, letting the silent question linger in the air: government tool or prison?

After a beat, you spoke up. “Do I get immunity?”

Pierce chuckled. “You’ll get a bed,” he said standing up. “Not in a cell. A desk job, a salary to buy groceries, and a chance to make a difference in the future of our country. Maybe even the world.” He took out a brown envelope from inside his suit jacket and placed it in front of you, a logo of an eagle enclosed in a circle on it.

You looked back up at him. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely some liberties taken with the techno-speak (I’m just a simple html/php/js coder with delusions of grandeur). --BJ

“Hey L/N, you grabbing lunch with us or what?” you heard Gunther call from the hallway. 1:45pm, like clockwork.

You half-smiled as you called back, “I hate falafel, Gunther. Have fun in the crapper when you come back!”

“Fuck off!” you heard him shout back, which made you chuckle.

The D.I.V.E. (Deep Intelligence VantagE) Unit wing of the Triskelion was more of a wide attic than an actual wing. It took 22 floors up from the main lobby elevator and once you crossed to the other end of the Operations floor and got past 3 security checkpoints, you went back down another 5 floors on a freight lift. Thankfully the hours were flexible, and after 8 months of being an obedient little SHIELD worker, you had gotten used to the in and out trek. Office doors lined the walls of a cramped elongated hallway, but each room was surprisingly spacious. Every agent had their own, complete with an office desk decked out with top-of-the line technology (courtesy of Stark Industries), a lounge area, small kitchen, and a fridge regularly stocked with whatever the on-call nutritionist had recommended for the week (though the lack of Gunther’s favorite indulgences forced him to spend his lunch break elsewhere). There was a common room by the freight lift, but you tended to avoid it. Your last venture into team-building hadn’t exactly warmed you up to playing well with others.

The thought made you frown. Things could have been worse, you supposed. Sure, all your activity in and out of SHIELD HQ was monitored by Jasper Sitwell, Head honcho of SHIELD’s Intelligence Division and your direct supervisor at DIVE. It was a condition of your work-release arrangement with Pierce. But that still hadn’t stopped you from bypassing the security protocols of your SHIELD-supplied apartment. Their tech while advanced, was highly predictable, and looping dummy commands to dupe the security feeds posed no difficulty for you, allowing you a little bit of freedom from the constant surveillance. It took you awhile, but eventually you managed to hook up your own security program and couple it with SHIELD’s circuits. You hadn’t caught wind of any red flags that might betray you to Sitwell… yet. You tested your system regularly, most recently two nights ago, monitoring from a self-built mobile workstation at a cafe 2 miles away, while security accounted for you at home, asleep in front of the TV. As far as you knew, SHIELD had no idea you had tampered with it, and if they did, they weren’t making a big stink about it.

You’d spent your life looking over your shoulder, and yeah, maybe blind trust and team-work weren’t prominent in your SHIELD employee file. It might seem exhausting to the layman, but the subterfuge was always the fun part after all, pushing the limits of what you could do, circumvent obstacles and stay ahead of the game. _Wasn’t that the point of all this?,_ you thought to yourself. _The point of SHIELD and DIVE?_

You smiled to yourself. Your particular skills had not gone unnoticed, that’s for sure. After you managed to break through DIVE system firewalls during your first week, and rewrite a critical system process while you were at it, your recommendations for the Unit’s network security protocols had been implemented (under Director Fury’s orders and after much grumbling from Sitwell). You’d also been tasked with re-designing most of the workflow software used by DIVE personnel. Flattering, sure. But gaining access to SHIELD files and information otherwise restricted to agents in your division was much more of a perk to you. Everyone had secrets, and SHIELD had plenty. You told yourself it was self-preservation in case things went sour; though to be honest, you didn’t dare do anything drastic with all the data you had on SHIELD personnel and their financial partners just yet. A few valuable nuggets of data, exchanged with other information hoarders, had helped you build a brand new trustworthy intelligence identity in your usual web haunts. All your old aliases and connections had been burned after your capture. _The more you know, the safer you are,_ Novak used to say. Along with _Trust is bullshit_. Should have taken that one more seriously.

You sighed and pushed yourself off your desk, a slight migraine building by your right temple. The algorithm Sitwell had told you to troubleshoot had been messing with your head for days. You’d say the code was re-writing itself every time you loaded it up, but that was crazy. It was just text code booted up from an offline server, and no one else had access to your office station, other than Sitwell himself. Leaning back against the counter, yogurt cup from the fridge in hand, you stared intensely at your monitor, as if daring it to come to life and explain it all to you. Your brow furrowed, deep in thought.

Where had this algorithm even come from? Who wrote it? Was anyone else from DIVE working on it? In its essence, it was supposed to analyze data and develop an assessment based on specific parameters. You had tried a simple hypothetical equation: if subject **A** contained parameter **B** , it would be ignored. But if **A** had parameter **B** along with variable **T** , it’d be flagged. It initially worked as intended, and you moved on to different parameter combinations, in order to test its limitations (if any) and report them to Sitwell. But two days later, your parameter combinations were… different. Still there, but seemingly moved around. When you tried the original equation, it yielded no results. Only when you tried a more complex one, with over 10 different variables, did it react. It was weird. You thought someone had messed with the server logs, but Sitwell had scoffed when you asked him.

“Take a look back at your logs, and reset. You must have screwed up somewhere,” a hint of a smirk at your possible failure dancing on his lips. Douchebag. You saved your progress and backed up all you had, with the intention of just starting over with the original raw file the next day, but it happened again. 22 variables did the trick this time. Sitwell was expecting a full report in three days, and if your work kept getting warped like that…

Your eyes widened. What if the code was rewriting itself? What if it was actually reprogramming, taking your variables and assimilating them, so the basic equations were useless? Had this been some A.I. program all along? If so, it would be pretty stupid of Sitwell to assume you’d never realize it at some point. No, you were meant to discover this. Begging the question: was there something about this that you weren’t supposed to know?

The TV in your lounge was on, mostly for the white noise that helped you focus, but something in your peripheral caught your eye. “Sound on” you called out, and the TV unmuted. “…still no word about whether the Avengers are still under any kind of government supervision, and after the continued disappearance of scientist Bruce Banner, a.k.a the Hulk and the Asgardian God Thor, there are questions from world leaders about the capacity of intelligence agency SHIELD to monitor potential threats, even with the likes of Captain Steve Rogers among their ranks…”

You frowned again. SHIELD had fielded a lot of criticism by recruiting Good Ol’ Cap after New York. What’s more American than a preserved War Hero playing for the home team, after all? But the chatter in your newfound circles was that the World Security Council was getting restless and taking a closer look into Fury and SHIELD’s operations… and now this impossible algorithm just falls onto your lap… you were missing something crucial and it was driving you crazy.

“Mute” the soft commanding voice of Alexander Pierce came from your door, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Mr. Secretary,” you stood a little bit straighter, but maintained your relaxed stance against the counter. It was rare that he’d make the trek down here personally, and you didn’t want him to notice your uneasiness. Picking up a few covert tricks around these parts came in handy.

“Media,” he began, shaking his head and gesturing to the now silent TV. “In their desperation to disseminate information before anyone else, they always end up missing the big picture.”

“Which is?” you prompted. This wasn’t a social call, you could tell that much. You kept up the dynamic: _never let the other guy see you sweat._ If your meddling with SHIELD’s tech had reached Pierce’s ears, he was going to have to work hard to get you to admit it.

He walked past your screen, glancing at the impossible code, and then fixing his look on you. “Heroes aren’t the ones who fly across the sky, or control the weather”, he said with a smile.

You chuckled, following his lead. “Tell that to the people in New York.”

“Yes, well” he grinned bemusedly. “Their perceptions are easily influenced. That will work to our advantage in the end.”

You arched an eyebrow, not breaking his gaze. This wasn’t about your apartment after all. He continued. “The algorithm. I’m sure by now you’ve gotten an idea about its… potential?”

There it was. You scoffed. “So it is A.I.?”

Pierce laughed, shaking his head. “In a way.”

You didn’t want to break eye contact, but your found yourself looking at the monitor again. And while you stared, a line of code wrote itself, right in front of your eyes.

“What the hell…”, you strode quickly back to your desk to look closer. A prompt had shown up, showing your initial equation, but with all the past 32 variables of your input implemented. **run (y)es / (n)o?**

You looked over at Pierce, astounded. He gave you a knowing smile. “As I was saying,” he headed towards the door. “Hammers and suits don’t make heroes, Y/N. Real heroes pave the way for everybody else.”


	3. Chapter 3

You imagined this was what it would be like to have an imaginary friend. A strange connection had developed between you and this… code? program? entity? The more information you gave it, the more it learned, and the more it understood you in return. Once you realized that the limits of its applications were practically nonexistent, you began using it to your benefit; it would re-organize your input as you worked, intuitively modifying itself for the sake of your productivity.   
  
Didn’t Stark have a full blown A.I. running his entire life? What you wouldn’t give for just one hour in his private servers. Giving too much control to a non-human entity always made you apprehensive, ( _not that people were any better_ , you thought wryly), choosing a more hands-on approach to things. Which is why you were determined to know exactly what made this code tick from top to bottom.

You committed to memory everything you could, logged personal notes away from SHIELD’s prying eyes, studying possible applications remotely as much as you could. If Sitwell or Pierce knew you were trying to learn as much from the algorithm as it was learning from you, you might find yourself in the same spot you had been when Pierce had found you. Stealing secrets from SHIELD wasn’t bound to end well for you, and you were already toeing the line. But the prospect of replicating it – mastering it even – and surpass this beta version SHIELD had, was hard to resist.

It was an impressive bit of technology – definitely would catch a hefty price from the right buyer. Your thoughts lingered on Pierce’s heroes remark. You were no hero, that much you knew. Pierce had obviously perfected the art of bullshit, so you knew he wasn’t trying to compliment you or give you a sense of self-importance. But what exactly were you “paving the way” for?

After a successful test report to Sitwell and a pleased Pierce regarding the added applications and possibilities of the algorithm, you were visibly disappointed to hear you’d be back to general intelligence monitoring. Boring. You had already done more than half your week’s worth of that in just two days with the help of the A.I. You were desperate to play around with it a bit more, but Sitwell had wiped your station’s logs and restricted your access to the offline server once you had submitted your work. The day dragged on as you waited out the clock, desperate to go home; already thinking about how best to replicate the code on your own. If Pierce wouldn’t give you a straight answer, you’d figure it out yourself.

Lost in thoughts of your independent project, the last thing you expected to see when the elevator doors opened on the Operations floor was Captain America himself. Sure, by this point you knew everything about the man; it was your job… to an extent. Still, you briefly panicked, wondering what he would think of you, a total stranger, knowing intimate details of his life… the art classes, his address growing up, his parents, his best friend…

He stood up straight when you entered the elevator; military habit, you observed. You nodded at him, a bout of shyness suddenly hitting you at being in his impressively commanding presence. He nodded back, but his face was deep in thought; brow furrowed, staring straight ahead.

_Ok, quick, think of an ice-breaker. It’s a long way down to just not say anything to Wonder Boy._

You turned to him and just blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Is that a permanent thing, or…” _Oh god. What are you doing?_

He turned to look at you, eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”

_Damn, those are blue eyes. Was he really 95?_ You scrambled for words.

“I mean – that Army frown,” you babbled at his ageless face. ”Is that just a thing you have now, or is it reversible?”

He paused confused and you cringed, bracing for the most awkward moment of your life thus far. But to your surprise, he let out a loud laugh. “I didn’t realize that was a thing I had,” he said, amused.

You finally breathed. Good to know even Captain America had the capacity to laugh at himself. “Well, you’re welcome for bringing it to your attention.”

He held out his hand cordially, “Steve Rogers.” Unnecessary, but you’d take it.

“Oh, better manners than me, too. I’m Y/N Y/L/N/,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. You work in Operations?”

“Intelligence. For Sitwell?” you added.

“Ah,” he replied.

“DIVE Unit’s kind of hidden away in the bowels of SHIELD, I just pass through on my way in and out.”

He frowned at that, looking straight ahead. “SHIELD does like its secrets.”

“Valuable cargo, Captain.” He turned to you, your shyness gone a bit too quickly at the mention of your favorite type of currency. “Isn’t it our job to keep as many of them as we can?”

“Depends on what you do with them,” he said wisely. “Thinking you know more than the other guy is a bit too arrogant for my taste… and dangerous.”

“But not knowing enough is just as bad, don’t you think?” you blurted out without thinking. Now fully aware that your enthusiasm was practically beaming off your face at this point, you quickly turned to face straight ahead. You could feel his eyes on you, and your face grew hotter by the second.

“I guess I’m automatically suspicious of anyone holding on too tightly to all the cards in play,” he sighed. This made you cautiously raise your gaze back towards him, his face thoughtful and worried. If only he knew what you’d get up to in your spare time. You were all about holding on to as many cards as you could. Fury had the same agenda, so did Pierce. They just weren’t as addicted to the thrill of knowledge like you were. That’s why they needed you.

“Information should be free,” he continued slowly, “to everyone. It’s what lets people make their own choices.” He paused, and you wondered if he was stopping himself from saying too much. “It’s what we fought for.”

His face was forlorn. There was loss in his expression, and it instantly made you feel sorry for him. _Oh god, you made Captain America sad, Y/N, great job._

“Well, on that point we agree, Captain,” you said softly. He turned back to you, eyebrow raised. You went on, cautiously trying not to incriminate yourself, “Sometimes I wonder what it is that we’re supposed to do with all the data we collect every day. I hope I’m putting it to good use in the end.” Your thoughts swam back to the algorithm and Pierce’s remarks for a second.

A smile replaced the Captain’s frown at your words. “The fact that you’re questioning that makes me think you probably are,” he said. You forced a smile back, hoping against all hope that it looked genuine enough for Steve Rogers.

***

You had to admit, being less than truthful in Captain America’s presence made you feel uncomfortable at best, and you couldn’t figure out why. It’s not like you would ever be best pals; he far outranked you, and you weren’t really in the market for friends anyway, much less a 95-year-old veteran. But you still couldn’t shake that hopeless expression he had from your mind.

He had been following orders his whole life, first in the Army, now from SHIELD. Did he ever get to call the shots himself, even now? _He’s a government tool, just like you._ You sighed out loud, frustrated with the injustice of it all.

Sirens in the distance shook you out of your reverie and you stopped to listen, about half a block away from your apartment building. They lasted a while, headed West. _More than 4_ , you counted the wails as it took awhile for them to disappear. Could be just cops dodging traffic, but that many patrols usually meant something was going down somewhere. In your line of work, you made it a point to know everything that was happening around you. There was always something new to learn if you kept your ears and eyes open in DC.

Pushing thoughts of Steve Rogers and the algorithm out of your head momentarily, you made your way to your apartment door; triggered your custom security protocols, and headed out the East entrance (The East-facing security camera was conveniently angled to only show people’s legs as they walked by. Requests to fix it had been forwarded to “management” and marked as “Cleared” on a continuous loop ever since it happened, thanks to a certain someone). Turning the corner down a South-facing alleyway, you pulled out a smartphone to double-check that your security feeds were functioning properly, adjusting parameters here and there to avoid any SHIELD suspicion. With that taken care of, you ran towards a diner less than a mile away, already pulling out your workstation from your bag as you went through the doors and plopped down on a corner booth, close to the kitchen doors and away from other customers.

You plugged in your headphones to listen in to scanner frequencies and effortlessly accessed the DOT’s traffic camera grid, scanning for clues. A brief flash of a patrol car’s tail lights vanishing from sight between 7th and Independence pointed you in the right direction, and you excitedly adjusted the feeds’ coordinates towards their intended direction.

“Whoa…” a black van blurred by in the next feed, three or four patrol cars surrounding it at any given time. You adjusted the feeds again, following the vehicles’ progress, as they swerved violently through traffic, uniformed officers aiming weapons, pedestrians and commuters be damned. You went back to 7th SW Street, to see if you could pinpoint what had started the pursuit, but found all cameras in that quadrant offline. Flipping through a few different scanner frequencies, you found no record of patrols being dispatched in the area. _What the hell is going on?_

You adjusted the cameras further north; in hopes that you could catch a glimpse of whoever was in that van, but you lost the vehicles somewhere around Pennsylvania Ave and 17th. “No, come on!” Frustrated, you brought up every feed you could summon from around the Mall, and tried extending it as far past as you could, until a small thumbnail caught your eye. 

There was just smoke, and a single dark silhouette materialized out of thin air for a moment, disappearing too fast for your eyes to catch it the first time. You enhanced the thumbnail and zoomed in on the figure as best you could, rewinding the feed… again. Again. Once more.   
  
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Flyaway dark hair. Armed to the teeth. A glint of metal fingers bounced off the camera as the smoke swept him away from view. He was real. After all this time, you had proof The Winter Soldier was real. And he was here.


	4. Chapter 4

You didn’t know what led you to the far end of the PNC bank by Farragut Station, hidden from the building’s cameras, staring at the spot where hours earlier The Winter Soldier had stood. 

The main avenue showed no hints of the high speed pursuit you had witnessed; people milling about the area on late night errands and dinner dates as if nothing had happened. If you didn’t have tangible video proof backed up on your private server already, you might have thought you’d imagined it all. You had absorbed that footage, rewinded it for what felt like 100 times, until just watching him emerge from the chaos wasn’t enough.

So close. The stories, while varied with obvious embellishments, had always been circulated for as long as you could remember. The anonymous assassin: in and out; gone without a trace once the job was done. Zev had claimed he saw him once in Turkey, during an op he supposedly ran. _“It was like that guy, uh Terminator, you know?”_ You had all laughed at his dramatic retelling of the urban legend. There just never was any proof.  
  
Until now.

You shivered, looking in all directions, suddenly paranoid and mentally kicking yourself for even coming down here. You knew better than this; being too exposed in the middle of the financial district, without taking extra precautions. Too focused on just being near where he had stood. It had to be the closest anyone had ever gotten; you were probably the only person to have seen him in recent years.

_There’s a reason for that_ , the thought making you shiver again. If the stories were any indication, most that encountered him ended up dead.

You headed towards the subway steps, hoping that losing yourself in the crowds underground would relieve you of your uneasiness. But a familiar face caught your eye from across the street. Trying to blend in with your surroundings, you picked up a magazine from a nearby newsstand as you watched one of STRIKE’s soldiers, accompanied by two men in suits, made his way towards an impressive old-looking structure.  
  
The Ideal Federal Savings Bank had been abandoned for years, and while the city, various trustees and real estate agents battled over whether to turn it into a historical landmark, a museum, or some other form of profit, there was never any activity in the place itself. Until now, it seemed. You could see movement inside as the STRIKE agent and his entourage disappeared through the doors.  
  
You wracked your brain, thinking back to all the data you’d scoured on SHIELD acquisitions, research and development, or partnerships, but nothing about buying up an old bank rang a bell. If they had acquired this, it must have been very recently… or it was off the books[. You couldn’t afford to linger around any longer to figure it out, though. You hurried down the subway steps with the next crowd of late-shift commuters, and headed home. You thought you would find answers here, but you only left with more questions, weighing heavily on your mind.   
  
***  
  
“Dispatch EMTs to 1630 Connecticut Ave., GSW…”   
  
The crackle of the scanner in your room made you stir before dawn.   
  
“Eyes on the shooter?”   
“Captain America in pursuit, no description…”  
  
That made you bolt upright in bed. You rushed to your workstation, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, booting up to access the area’s camera feeds. You scoured adjacent intersections, accessed the nearby buildings own security systems, but the only relevant footage you got was that of Steve, tearing through an empty office floor.

“Victim status?”  
“Black male, 6’2”, late 50s, no right-side vision…”  
  
No.  
  
“EMTs on route.”   
“Copy that.”  
  
The chill that ran up your spine kept you frozen to the spot. For a second you forgot to breathe. It couldn’t be. There was no way.  
  
Frantically you kept rewinding camera feeds, trying to access any cell phones or radio signals in the area, until the morning light had already flooded your windows. All you had managed to do was track the ambulance to George Washington University Hospital and wait. Not your greatest strength. Waiting usually led to you doing reckless things… for instance, what you were thinking about doing right now.  
  
You had avoided hacking into SHIELD’s field comm lines from home; it was way easier to access transcripts from the servers in-house, under the guise of following up on Op activities. But anyone searching for STRIKE logs remotely, especially this early, would be immediately flagged by Sitwell. You couldn’t use your admin logins for that this time, you’d be giving yourself away.  
  
So you used Gunther’s. You knew you were playing with fire, knew this could blow up in your face as soon as you stepped into HQ later today. But you had to know. And you had to be quick about it; maybe you’d have a chance to delete any evidence before Sitwell pulled all the records at midday.  
  
Using a chain of proxy IPs so nothing would be traced back to your location, you accessed the back-end DIVE server, using Gunther’s logins. You filtered the logs down to last night and early morning, expecting nothing really to show up; it had only been hours anyway. But when you saw it:  
  
__**Comm03:** Target hit; on route to GWU. Asset is on the move; NE on Connecticut.  
**Comm04:** Copy that. Lead Asset back to base…  
  
Without warning, you were booted off the server. “FUCK!”   
  
Thanks to your security suggestions, SHIELD’s server logs were on a timer to refresh every 6 minutes if accessed from an outside location; agents only logged in remotely to revise Ops communications, so they didn’t need more than 2 or 3 minutes. DIVE took care of giving more in-depth reports if requested.   
  
You hadn’t even had time to screen cap what you’d read, and you definitely didn’t dare try to log back in, so you wiped all traces of access from your end, and hoped nobody would look too closely at the user until you made it to HQ.  
  
Your mind was reeling. Why was STRIKE at Cap’s apartment last night? And _IF_ it really was Fury who… you shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was all part of an Op gone wrong. But what was this “Asset” then? The more you thought about it, the less sense it made.  
  
A text from Sitwell put your thoughts on hold. _“0900 hrs; Lv 1”_  
  
You took a deep breath, trying to quiet your thoughts, until a second text came through.   
  
_”Fury’s dead.”_  
  
***  
  
“Then, out of nowhere, just a massive crash, I thought we were under attack!” Gunther was gesticulating dramatically, surrounded by a group of people in the lobby.   
  
Glass littered the floor, maintenance workers scurrying around to try and clean up as fast as possible. Overhead, the broken skylight roof kept showering debris down sporadically while workers tried to pull a tarp in place.  
  
“It was Captain Rogers! He’d used his shield to brace the fall, he must have jumped like 20ft… Holy shit, L/N, you just missed the most epic thing ever,” Gunther chattered excitedly as you approached.  
  
But his story was interrupted by Sitwell as he swept by without stopping: “DIVE, I want you at Comms. YESTERDAY.”  
  
The group exchanged glances, Gunther making a face at Sitwell’s tone, but you didn’t react. As you all made your way to the Central Comms Wing, a sudden urge to turn around and run overtook you. _Just leave, don’t come back, be a free agent again…_ You shook your head. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to you. What good would it do to run now?

“…if anyone Tweets about this guy, I want to know about it,” Sitwell was saying to the crowd of agents as your group walked in. Operations, Intelligence, STRIKE and field agents were all listening intently. You looked up to the monitors, and saw the serious face of Steve Rogers staring back at you. You felt a pang in your chest; there was that anxious feeling again.   
  
“With all due respect, if SHIELD is conducting a manhunt for Captain America, we deserve to know why,” a young field agent, Carter, spoke up defiantly. A murmur of agreement and dissent rumbled around the room at her words.   
  
“Because he lied to us.” Pierce’s voice rang out on the floor. “Captain Rogers has information regarding the death of Director Fury.” You lowered your gaze, trying to keep a firm grip on your emotions as he confirmed Sitwell’s blunt text from earlier. “He refused to share it. As difficult as it is to accept, Captain America is a fugitive from SHIELD.”  
  
Looking back at Captain America’s face on the screen, your expression changed. This was all wrong. You were missing pieces of a whole story once again, and it was eating you up inside. The somber mood in the Comms room mirrored your feelings; many agents murmuring between themselves, still trying to process the news about Fury’s death.  
  
Your gaze landed on Pierce as he looked in your direction, a solemn look on his face, and gestured for you to follow him. You glanced towards Sitwell, but he was busy, in his element, shouting out more orders. Breathing deep to try and calm your rattling nerves, you followed Pierce towards the door. But then he stopped by Gunther, who was leaning against the frame. “You too.”  
  
Gunther tried (but failed) to hide his excitement at being singled out by Pierce himself, and grinned at you before following him down the hall. But your nerves were now on end; spreading panic all over your body. He knew.


	5. Chapter 5

The walk seemed eternal, Pierce not saying a word as he led you up the elevator and into his office. You’d have thought Gunther was being invited to Disneyland; he kept bouncing on the balls of his feet, no doubt thinking he’d be working directly under the Secretary for some super secret project. You didn’t dare say anything, but if you could have uttered a word, you’d have told him to run away, too.

Pierce motioned for you both to stand by the monitors at the far end, as he walked to the keyboard at his desk. “I am sure things seem chaotic right now, for lack of a better word, but I’ve found chaos breeds opportunity. I have something I need to show you first, however.” He pressed a few keys. You braced yourself for the worst.

“This morning someone accessed secure communications logs through an remote external server. Thanks to Y/N’s security recommendations,” you didn’t miss the pointed glance in your direction, “the system booted them out before anything could be extracted. However, we couldn’t help but notice: it was a DIVE user who accessed it.” He fixed Gunther with his signature look as he zoomed in to the access logs on his monitor, his username clear as day.

Gunther’s eyes went wide. “What? I didn’t do that.” He looked from Pierce to you, but you avoided his gaze, trying to hide the guilt on your face.

You knew what this was. Pierce was obviously out for blood after Fury’s death. Letting you know he was pulling all the strings now at SHIELD, and to show you just how far he would pull them. He’d already sent the whole of SHIELD after Captain America. _Should have bolted when you had the chance_ , your own brain taunted you.

“We can’t afford any lapses in security, especially at this critical time, Gunther.” Pierce said, moving aside as two STRIKE agents stepped inside. “Please escort him down to holding for debriefing.”

“Wait, no, please, I can get to the bottom of this–” Gunther pleaded, as the STRIKE goons crowded him.

“We do hope you will cooperate with us to do exactly that,” Pierce gave him a tight smile. With one last panicked look at you, Gunther was gone.

Silence. You and Pierce stared at each other for what felt like forever, your game of standoff in full effect. Gunther would pay the price of your meddling unless you agreed to whatever Pierce had in store for you, that was clear. You decided to play nice, for now. You owed Gunther that, at the very least.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you began.

Pierce’s face twisted up in a smirk. “Nothing like a few theatrics to drive the point home.” He settled down on a chair, on the opposite side from where you stood. “He’ll be fine. For how long, that’s up to you.”

Trying not to let loose the bubbling rage you felt at being forced to perform for Pierce in his sick game, you stood still, waiting until he spoke again.

“What were you hoping to find in those logs so early in the morning, Y/N?”

There was no point in lying, but you still treaded carefully before answering. “I wanted to know about Director Fury. I heard he’d been shot and I thought I could figure out who did it.”

“And where did you hear this information?”

You held his gaze defiantly. “Around.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to do that right now, Y/N.”

“I answered your question. Just tell me what you want.” You were desperate get away from him, try and regroup and come up with a plan to get Gunther and yourself out of whatever you had gotten the both of you into.

“It’s not going to be that simple.” He stood up, walking towards you. “It’s become clear to me that I don’t know where your loyalties lie, Y/N. I’m hoping you can clarify that for me. Now. Before we go any further.”

You wrinkled your brows, confused. “I don’t know what you mean,” you words were measured, but curious as to what this was about.

He reached another keyboard close to you and clicked a few more keys, his eyes never leaving yours until the screen changed to an image of a ship, the words Lemurian Star on it. You half-glanced at it before turning back to Pierce. The ship’s name sounded vaguely familiar; you’d ran across an Op record not long ago. 

“Nick Fury ran a rescue operation to recover sensitive intelligence data from this ship earlier this week. Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, and our STRIKE team recovered security intel from a group of pirates… Intel that is now in the hands of Captain Rogers himself.”

A vague memory about Sitwell being kidnapped and promptly rescued by the two Avengers stirred in your mind. Jokes about “Dread Pirate Sitwell” had made the rounds around DIVE for awhile.

You scoffed, “What, no backup?” You were being sarcastic, but you knew that whatever data Captain America may have, there had to be a backup of it somewhere in SHIELD. For the first time since your arrival you had no idea where Pierce was headed with this, and it was embarrassing for you to admit that it terrified you.

“I didn’t get to my position by being a fool”, he sighed, relaxing his stance, though you did the opposite. “I knew what I was getting into when I hired you, Y/N. Contingencies are necessary.”

But you’d had enough “Get to the point,” you said through gritted teeth.

He regarded you for a moment, a disappointed look in his face. He shook his head and moved back towards his desk. “You’ve been accessing restricted intel and used it indiscriminately for your own purposes, endangering Director Fury’s life in the process.” He paused as his words took effect on your face, finally registering what he was implying. “By all accounts and purposes, you killed Nicholas J. Fury.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s not true.”

“There won’t be many people who will back you up on that, we both know it. I’m sure your friend Gunther wouldn’t hesitate to incriminate you for a chance to clear his name.”

Desperately trying to control the impulse to lunge at Pierce and rip his head off right there on the office floor, you forced yourself to breathe deep once again.

He’d been playing you from the beginning. No matter how much you’d tried to stay ahead, no matter how little you trusted… Pierce had used you, too. Just like Novak.

“I’ve allowed you considerable free reign because I know what you are capable of.” He kept his eyes on you, knowing he was digging into dangerous territory, practically daring you to break. “While your skills have worked to our advantage–”

“That’s a great way of saying you’ve been manipulating me from the start,” you spat.

“–and you have gained plenty of knowledge in return. Knowledge not everyone is, or frankly, should be, privy to.”

“And that’s up to you to decide, is it?” The echo of Steve’s words ran through your head: _the right to choose_. It had only been a couple of days since that elevator meeting, but it felt like weeks. You were exhausted; the mental gymnastics your brain had been doing all week beginning to take a toll on you.

“Would you rather the Avengers made that choice? Dr. Banner? Thor, not of this Earth? Captain America? They come and go, destruction in their wake; zero accountability. They aren’t in any capacity to lead our Country, much less themselves.”   
  
“Captain America has nothing to do with this, and you know it,” your voice rising for the first time.

“I don’t know what Captain Rogers is up to,” he said, his anger showing in his lined face for the first time, darkening his features. You thought you hated being kept in the dark; Pierce had turned downright frightening. “He destroyed SHIELD property, incapacitated STRIKE agents, and is on the run with SHIELD intelligence. His loyalty does not lie with us.” He took a deep breath, his words lingering in the empty room. “Where does yours lie, Y/N?” 

It wasn’t a question anymore; it was a threat. Time to follow his orders to the letter, or you wouldn’t make it out of the building alive. Gunther would meet the same fate, or worse. Once again, you were backed against a wall.

You closed your eyes briefly, shaking your head before meeting Pierce’s gaze again. "You have a bad habit of not giving me a lot of choices to work with, you know” you said resignedly.

“We all have to work with what we’re given, Y/N,” Pierce replied, a satisfied smirk now on his face.

***

With the promise that Gunther would not be harmed and allowed to go back to work (not that you trusted the word of a sociopath like Pierce), your started working on implementing your old algorithm friend onto the servers for Project Insight. You’d finally gotten what you wanted; the freedom (albeit supervised) to keep tinkering with the algorithm’s processes, but the implications of your position were starting to gnaw at the better part of your humanity.

You were given unlimited access to, not just SHIELD intelligence, but also birth certificates, death certificates, prison records, government personnel files, social media accounts… And it wasn’t only limited to the United States, but the whole planet. Records going back centuries. The world’s knowledge at your fingertips. But at what cost?

Essentially a prisoner now, you were restricted to a wing on the south side of the building, but thankfully you had managed to make your own demands, as you insisted you needed to get some of your own equipment to work with.

“I’m obviously not going anywhere anytime soon,” you had told Pierce. “You want this done right, I need my shit.”

He acquiesced, but he still sent Rumlow and his STRIKE team to escort you to and from your apartment. You knew everything would be searched with a fine-tooth comb as soon as you got back to HQ, so you needed to upload everything up to your virtual backup server without your “bodyguards” suspecting anything

Holding on a bit tighter to your bag, you turned to face Rumlow, who had started following you into your bedroom.

“Sorry, no boys allowed,” you smiled sardonically.

“Good one, smartass. We got orders,” he stood firm, trying his best to make himself look intimidating.

“Come on, can’t a girl get a little privacy? Or do you want to watch?,” you stepped closer to him, hoping that you’d make him uncomfortable enough that he’d back off. “I’m sure Pierce’s cameras would love to get that on tape.”

He glanced at the one you gestured to; set up by the door frame, looking at it as if he were about to ask permission from Pierce through the lens. You didn’t feel the need to mention that the cameras weren’t under SHIELD control anymore, but you knew Rumlow wouldn’t take the risk anyway. He was too loyal to motivate you to do anything that would jeopardize Project Insight. He stepped back, a stony look on his face.

“I just need 15 minutes,” you flashed a smile, and shut the door in his face.

Not wasting any time, your dashed into your adjacent bathroom, turned on the shower, and fired up the old workstation again. “Sorry buddy,you’re going to have to stay here for now.” Stepping on a loose floorboard revealing an opening, you reached in and pulled out a hidden network cable, plugged in and began uploading all your files and data to a virtual backup server. You then ran a second program; your virtual machine software, developed for remote access.

You had been trying to replicate the algorithm guided only by memory and half-written notes, but now that you would be in close contact with it (indefinitely, it seemed), you finally had the chance to try and upload all the missing pieces, and let your trusty software replicate it outside of SHIELD monitoring from here. Much more secure than just a downloadable application, since you were the one who programmed it, it would be virtually undetected once you paired it with your backup workstation, which you also grabbed from under the floorboard. You’d have to wait until you got back to HQ before trying to run your software on it, though; Sitwell would be searching everything you owned, including files and programs he didn’t think would be necessary for your work.

Placing the now connected and operational workstation among the hidden array of cables and machinery you had secretly installed, and replacing the loose floorboard, you turned off the shower, just as you heard a loud knock. 

“Hurry it up in there, we don’t got all day!” Rumlow’s agitated voice ringing out.

“Aww, you got a hot date, Rumlow?” You couldn’t help but mock him as you changed into a clean sweater and pants, and stuffed some more clothing items haphazardly into your bag. He always was a tightwad, and you had a problem with people who blindly followed orders, especially Pierce’s. It didn’t help that Steve Rogers had beaten him and his whole squad to a pulp, and he was still sour after his failure to capture him.

You were now breaking down a collapsible hard drive; made to look like spare parts, but it housed a compressed version of your software for the pairing installation, when he shouted again, a bit more forcefully this time. 

“Open the door, or we’ll open it for you. 5… 4…”

You rolled your eyes, and making sure your network array was fully operational and invisible, you yanked open the door. Rumlow was in the middle of saying “3”, surrounded by 4 other STRIKE team members, hands reaching for their guns already. Your skeptical expression didn’t change. They wouldn’t kill you, at least not here. And you had had enough of being threatened. You were tired, mentally drained, and pissed off.

“You gonna play with your toys all day, or are we getting out of here?” you said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I maaayyy have deviated from canon a teeny tiny bit here for the sake of timing things right, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s also my first attempt at switching the third-person narrative for another MCU character convo, hope it comes across properly here. --BJ

Your new permanent quarters at the Triskelion ( _a prison by any other name,_ you recalled miserably) were ample and not devoid of basic comforts: bathroom, shower, and a large network systems array for work on Project Insight. You still had access to SHIELD data banks, but Sitwell had made it difficult for you to get the unmetered access you had become used to during your time at DIVE.   
  
He had you on a strict schedule, on Pierce’s orders. Sitwell handed you a key card personally every morning; it was the only way the network systems installed in your room would boot up. He’d log you out remotely for meals and breaks, and shut down the system after midnight. Your first night, you had tried reverse engineering the key card after hours, trying to find a vulnerability that would allow you to use it to reboot the system, but you found the key was useless after the system shut down. 

Meals were delivered to you 3 times a day, most of them ending up as leftovers in the fridge. The change of environment made you restless, getting little to no sleep and leaving you with no appetite, your mind going around in circles when idle. You took to running on the treadmill they had brought in for you; Pierce’s idea of a sick joke. _Pretend to run, you’re not getting out of this one._ He had managed to break you down using the most basic form of isolation. You only knew what they wanted you to know, when they wanted you to know; nothing more. 

You wondered where Steve was now. You’d at least have heard if they had caught up with him; the whispers between STRIKE members as they changed shifts could be heard outside your door at times. Once or twice you heard them mention the word “asset”. You wondered if it was the same one you had spied on the Comms logs. Your thoughts floated back to the events of the past week: Pierce’s betrayal, the appearance of The Winter Soldier, Fury’s death… You still couldn’t believe he was gone. Had anyone found out who was responsible? 

Breathing heavily you turned off the treadmill and stepped off, planning on taking a shower, when you heard them again. 12:15am, shift change. Right on schedule.  
  
_“Pierce wants you; he’s gone to the bank… asset failed…”_  
  
You stopped in your tracks, listening intently.  
  
_“Shit, that guy’s not right in the head man.”_  
  
_“Yeah, better take some extra ammo just in case.”_  
  
You heard the other guy scoff at that. _“That wasn’t enough against the Captain. And this one’s got a metal arm, what good are bullets?”_  
  
You were now staring at the door, wide-eyed.   
  
_“They might wipe him again, I heard Sitwell bit it. Pierce is pissed so watch out…”_

You turned quickly to the systems array. You had been so preoccupied after your monotonous routine of the last three days that you had just assumed the network would shut down on schedule, as it always did. You hadn’t even noticed the network cable light was still on. Sitwell hadn’t managed to shut the system down, and if he really was dead…

Your mind, fueled by all the new information you had just overheard, was grasping onto every word and piecing together a dangerous combination: Pierce, bank, asset, metal arm… Pierce was in charge of The Winter Soldier. Bank… were they talking about the Ideal Federal Reserve building? Where you saw the STRIKE guy the other night?… The Winter Soldier was at Steve’s apartment when Fury died. Did that mean Pierce sent the Soldier to kill Fury? _Why??_  
  
It took you a few minutes to bypass security measures after your limited access to Project Insight, but seeing as how Sitwell wasn’t likely to come back and Pierce was obviously too preoccupied to deal with you just yet, you took your time and managed to break into Sitwell’s private server. And then you saw everything. 

The algorithm, Arnim Zola’s idea, brainchild of HYDRA, would target their enemies and eliminate them with the flick of a switch. Your switch. The Avengers. Steve. You. This wasn’t for protection. This was genocide.

Pierce had been HYDRA all this time. And SHIELD was dead, just like Fury. If Project Insight ran as scheduled, you would be the one responsible for the deaths of billions. Pierce’s taunt about Fury in your mind, and the realization that the Winter Soldier was responsible for his death… your panic overwhelmed you once again. 

You’d been on the run long enough to appreciate that paranoia was the best motivator for you to survive. You had thrived in it. But you wouldn’t be able to outrun this. Even if you managed to escape this place somehow, Pierce would use the helicarriers, maybe even the Soldier to find you. You were now a liability, a loose end. It was just added irony that you were the one responsible for programming the weapon that would end you.  
  
You hadn’t been able to pair up your replacement workstation to the one running remotely from your apartment yet, due to the connection restrictions put in place since your arrival. But now you took full advantage of your system access to pair up your workstation and transfer everything you’d found to your virtual server once again, including the full algorithm mapping. 

The version that was already being programmed into the helicarriers wouldn’t allow it, but thanks to your software, your copy was able to reprogram itself to re-route the targeting parameters. You let out a sigh of relief, but the moment of triumph was short-lived. How in the hell you were going to produce brand new hardware, reprogram it with the new parameters, and get someone to manually upload it to all three helicarriers before they launched?   
  
You were starting to get desperate, half-expecting Pierce or Rumlow to burst in at any moment, when all you had was half a plan with no execution. Maybe if there was a way to circumvent the program, maybe hack into the satellite themselves? No, the engineers would notice any disruption to the satellites and report it. And you were sorely lacking a spaceship to launch you into space and rig them to just blow up. Besides, they were Stark tech…  
  
A slow smile started spreading on your face. Looks like was time to take a peek at those Stark servers after all. 

***

“JARVIS, bring up the Mark 42 self-repair schematics, chop chop.”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t do that at the moment, Sir.”  
  
“I don’t have time for a teenage rebellion, Jarvis,” Tony replied, slightly exasperated. “Puberty should have kicked in, what, 5 years ago?”  
  
“My protocols are being overrid–” his voice warbled out and was gone.  
  
“Ugh, not again,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Fury, keep your hands off my software, and come out and talk to me like an adult!”  
  
_“You’re telling me I’m not the first person to hack into your wireframe?,”_ the laughter in the voice that replaced JARVIS’ drawl rang around the room.   
  
Tony cocked his head, annoyance dripping from every word he spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall dialing 1-800-Lonelyhearts, who is this?” He began trying to manually reboot JARVIS’ system, but even the root branch of his protocols had been taken over.   
  
_“You might want to keep that sense of humor when I do this.”_  
  
“Do what?”  
  
The flight stabilizer of one of his suit’s arm flew towards his head, making him duck just in time before it crashed into the Iron Man portrait hanging from the wall behind him, shattering it into a million pieces.  
  
“WHOA! WHAT THE HELL” Tony yelped, eyes wide.  
  
_“Hahaha, man, I was right, you really do have all the fun stuff.”_  
  
Just then, his not-so-reliable but trusted Dummy started moving on its own, roaming around the workshop, as though admiring the space, twirling every once in awhile to take in the view. Tony narrowed his eyes at it as he kept trying to figure out where exactly his protocols had been exploited.  
  
“Ok, genius, can you stop messing with my equipment for a second and just tell me what you’re looking for?” He typed non-stop, trying to override whoever had overridden him, but every time he caught a branch he could tap into and take back control of his system it would lock him out, creating more branches, faster than he could catch them. _Malware hackers, no class at all,_ he thought derisively to himself. Still, he couldn’t deny it: whomever they were, they were good. “You want cash? An autograph? May I recommend a swift kick in the –”  
  
_“Fury’s dead.”_  
  
He froze in place, looking up at Hacked Dummy; it had stopped wandering around and was now facing him.

“And I should trust you because…?” he picked up his cell phone to access a secondary external network, hoping to deactivate his primary one while intercepting whoever it was that was playing tricks on him, but he didn’t notice his other robotic assistant sneaking up behind him, prodding the phone out of his hands with an electric shock and making him wince. “Ow.”  
  
_“Oh, you definitely shouldn’t trust me, Mr. Stark.”_ Hacked Dummy moved closer to him. _“Actually the list of people you can trust keeps getting shorter by the second. Starting with anyone who claims they work for SHIELD.”_  
  
“And who do you work for?”  
  
_“By the time all this is over, hopefully no one.”_  
  
A image of the Stark-designed SHIELD helicarriers popped up on Tony’s main screen, drawing his attention away from Hacked Dummy.  
  
_“Your fancy Murder-copters?”_ Tony blinked. _“Now in control of these guys.”_ The HYDRA logo flashed wide on screen. He opened his mouth to say something, but the voice interrupted him once again. _“Well, this guy, to be precise,”_ it said as a picture of Alexander Pierce replaced the previous image.  
  
_“He’s the one who got Fury killed.”_ Tony glanced back at Hacked Dummy, who was looking back at him intently. _“And he’ll kill you too.”_  
  
“Look, I appreciate the visual aids, really,” he wasn’t so much annoyed anymore, more frustrated. A cold feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach by now. If there was one thing that truly frightened Tony Stark, it was losing control. And right now he was very much not in control.   
  
“But you’ve now taken over my entire system, told me a truly fantastic story, and given me a very strong urge to turn my favorite robot punching bag into scrap metal, so unless you tell me exactly how you know all this and why I should listen to anything you say, I’m just gonna pull the plug on the whole thing.” His hand reached towards a master outlet, when the voice spoke again.  
  
_“Because he’s making me do it.”_  
  
Hand still outstretched, Tony turned slowly back towards Hacked Dummy.   
  
_“He’s been using me to program the satellites and upload them to the helicarriers.”_ The voice sounded tired, as if they’d been saying it over and over for awhile and still hadn’t come to terms with it. _“They’ll target anyone who’s capable of stopping HYDRA. Banner. Romanoff. Captain Rogers… billions more. Extinct.”_

 _“Well that’s convenient,” Tony sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation. “I don’t control the satellites or the helicarriers, I just gave them notes.” He shrugged hopelessly. “What do you want me to do, just fly into Nazi Washington and take care of Dr. Evil myself?”_  
  
_“That sounds… like a terrible idea.”_ Tony couldn’t help but chuckle at that, though the gravity of the situation was not lost on him. _“I have a better one. I’m transferring all the plans I have for an override process. If you can program the hardware in the plans and upload the new coordinates to the helicarriers, all three of them…”_  
  
“Will it stop whatever you did?” A pause.  
  
_“They have to sync up by the time they reach 3000 feet so that the satellites can trigger a reversal, do you underst–?”_  
  
“Will it stop it?” his voice cutting them off.  
  
_“That’s up to you Mr. Stark.”_ He detected an ominous tone that hadn’t been there before. _“Contact Maria Hill. I’m pretty good at finding things out, but she’s even better at keeping deep cover. I’m sure she could use all the help she can get right now.”_  
  
“Is that why you’re doing this? To help?” he asked incredulously.  
  
The voice laughed again, but it came out somewhat strangled. _“Clock’s ticking, Stark. We don’t have much time. And… please tell Captain Rogers I’m sorry.”_  
  
And with that, all systems came back online.   
  
JARVIS’ voice filled the room once again.“Sir, an external file has been embedded in my root directory, origin signature unknown. No malicious code detected.”   
  
Tony chuckled at the filename: _Big Balls of Fury._  
  
“Ok, JARVIS. Let’s get to work.”   



	7. Chapter 7

You’d wiped all traces of your communications with Stark and had already downloaded everything from Sitwell’s server onto your virtual workstation, when you heard multiple voices outside your door. You quickly disconnected your backup workstation and moved it and your bag out of sight, wrapping your blanket around it and using it as a pillow on your bed, but the door opened before you could do anything about the fully operational systems array.

Pierce strode in, flanked by Rumlow and his crew, and he looked from the system dashboard to you, laying on your back as leisurely as possible. If this was the moment they would choose to get rid of you, you might as well go out in your terms.

“Where’s Sitwell? Stuck in traffic?” you grinned at them.

Pierce’s eyes narrowed at that, fueling your fear-induced recklessness. You’d found out everything, even when he tried his best to keep you in the dark. _How’s it feel now, asshole?_ , the savage thought itching to burst through your lips, but you kept them firm in that taunting smile, just for him.

He seemed to get the gist, though, and acted accordingly. He nodded at Rumlow who stepped up to you, gun in hand, pointed straight at your head. Your heart rate quickened, your surmounting adrenaline hinting at your brain that this might be the end, that you should brace yourself. Apart from your breathing a bit heavier, you stayed in your position. You wouldn’t yield or cower, and if you had to die now, you’d rather it be quick than wait for your own device to kill you later.

“Being defiant isn’t going to help you now, Y/N.”

“You’ve had a gun to my head from the beginning, it’s kind of lost its effect.” You couldn’t help the sarcasm, but apparently he couldn’t help dishing out the unsolicited advice, even now.

“Get up,” Rumlow grabbed you by the arm and shoved you towards the system dashboard. You stopped yourself from falling face-forward onto it with both hands, Rumlow still with his gun pointed at you. You didn’t need to turn around to know the rest of his squad had their weapons aimed at your back.

“Run the final launch sequence, Y/N,” Pierce said in a low voice next to you.

You turned your head towards him. “Or what?”

He nodded at Rumlow and he clicked a few keys. A small cell appeared on the screen, a single solitary figure inside; bloodied, beaten, and twitching on the floor.

Gunther.

“You son of a bitch,” you whispered, rage filling you up again.

“This is all your doing, Y/N,” Pierce leaned down to your shoulder, speaking low once again, his breath in your ear. You recoiled, but another STRIKE agent held you firm in place. “If you continue to force my hand, there’s no telling when I’ll stop.” He gestured to Rumlow again, and with a stroke of another key, you saw Gunther begin to twitch uncontrollably, electricity surging through the room.

“ _DON’T!_ ” you screamed, trying to let loose of your captor.

“Run the final launch sequence, Y/N,” Pierce repeated, in that same menacingly low voice. “The longer you wait, the more damage Gunther will take.”

_This wasn’t fair,_ your mind shouted uselessly. You’d gotten Gunther into this, this was on you… but you couldn’t just do what Pierce wanted. You hoped against hope that Stark would be able to finish what you’d started, otherwise this would all be for nothing.

Trying to control the rage-filled tears stinging your eyes, you initiated the final launch commands for Project Insight.

_“We are in final launch sequence,”_ the loudspeakers boomed shortly after.

“There, that wasn’t so hard.” Pierce said, as Rumlow deactivated the energy surge in Gunther’s cell. He still twitched. There was no sound on the video feed, but even without it you knew he must be in blinding pain.

“Let him go,” you said, your voice now just as low as Pierce’s had been, still leaning over the dashboard, not taking your eyes off Gunther’s limp form.

“Make sure access to Project Insight and SHIELD security are revoked from this terminal,” he replied, ignoring your plea. You anxiously did what he asked, limiting administrator access to mostly everything. Only general security feeds and activity log alerts were functional from this array.

“There, happy?,” you turned to face Pierce, your voice shaking, as he walked away from you. “Now let him go.”

He stopped at the door and turned to you with a derisive smile. “Or what?”

Your eyes went wide as he and the STRIKE team left you and closed the door. You turned back to the screen where Gunther was shown, just in time to see a STRIKE soldier step into view, aim a gun at his head, and shoot.

***

The loudspeaker announcements and sporadic beeping from the activity logs were dull and muffled, not unlike the feeling of diving into the deep end of a pool, water taking over your senses, merging together both vision and sound. You sat on the floor, leaning against the steel door, breathing heavily. You’d been merciless towards every item available to you in your almost bare room, letting lose your fury and sorrow after witnessing Gunther’s murder. The fridge had been knocked over on its side, its contents spilling out and wafting leftover aroma around the far end. Sparks fizzling out the treadmill’s circuit board. A few light bulbs shattered on the floor. Even the shower head from the bathroom ripped off the wall, water leaking out. Your hands bled freely, but the dull pain wasn’t strong enough to rouse you from your misery.

You had pardoned the systems array; it was your only way to know what was going on outside your cell. Plus, you told yourself you deserved to stare at Gunther’s lifeless body as long as it took for it to sink in. Being ahead of the game did you no favors this time, not against HYDRA. And it definitely did Gunther no favors in being associated with you. It was only fitting you had literal blood on your hands.

_“Attention all SHIELD agents. This is Steve Rogers.”_

It always seemed that Steve Rogers’ voice managed to seep into your head in your most introspective moments. His sense of morality frustratingly infectious, just from that solitary meeting in that elevator, it offered you a sort of comfort that things might work out in the end. It took you a few moments to realize that his voice was actually reverberating through the loudspeakers this time.

_“You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. I think it’s time you know the truth…”_

The truth… it was never enough for you. You just had to know everything, and today it got you in too deep, with a worse fate than prison would have been.

_“SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader…”_

You shook with rage at the mention of his name. You fell into his trap, did his dirty work for him… got Gunther killed. You didn’t know what would be the worst outcome; if Pierce was caught, he’d still implicate you in everything. If he got away… well, he’d already found you once.

_“…They almost have what they want, absolute control. They shot Nick Fury, and it won’t end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill everyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them….”_

If Steve was here, that meant Stark had done his part… hopefully. _He’ll stop it_ , you thought furiously. If there was ever anyone you thought you could come close to trusting, it would be Steve Rogers.

_“…I know I’m asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high, it always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”_

Your gaze fell on the lump of blankets on your bed, a black strap peeking through. Your bag. Either too preoccupied with the launch, or thinking he’d broken you to the point of hopelessness, Pierce had neglected to take possession of your belongings. Maybe the old fool would come to regret that.

_“If I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”_

Rubbing the dried tear stains from your face, you pushed yourself off the floor. You looked over at the treadmill’s circuits, spilling off the control panel. Then glanced towards the wires sticking out of the fridge on its side. And finally, the systems array, lights furiously blinking away.

_Time to go_ , you thought grimly. It was usually a last resort, but you’d always been pretty adept at blowing things up, after all.

***

Alarms were now added to the cacophony echoing around the Triskelion. You sped through halls, trying to search a secure terminal; you needed ears on the ground and had to know where Pierce and Rumlow were at. There were plans you had to make, and they all hinged on whether Cap would succeed in getting those helicarriers offline or not.

There had been no guards at your door when you blasted your way out, possibly told to try and stop Steve. Praying he had the sense of getting proper backup this time, you found an empty office with a terminal on the second floor, when you suddenly heard gunshots coming from the Comms room across the atrium.   
  
You swung yourself down and crawled under a desk for cover, hidden from view, and looped in to the security feeds. It was chaos, agents were shooting and attacking each other without hesitation, and in the middle of it, you spied Rumlow overriding the helicarrier launch and fleeing from the scene.

“Goddamn it,” you hissed, trying like mad to decipher a way to break the override, but found all protocols encrypted, a signature you wouldn’t be able to crack in just a few minutes. There was nothing you could do about the helicarriers now… unless you got to Pierce first. _Where was he??_

As if to answer your question, you heard someone speak through the comms link:

_“…Council’s been breached.”_

_“Repeat dispatch.”_

_“Black Widow’s up there…”_  
  
There was still a chance. Cap had backup after all; if they had Pierce cornered at the World Security Council, maybe – just maybe – you’d be able to clear your name. Be free. Make him pay for Gunther. For everything.

But a strong blast shook the entire foundation of the building, making you hold on to the refuge of your hideout with both hands. What the hell was that?  
  
You peeked over the desk: there was no more shooting across the hall anymore. Now people were running towards the exits, screaming and covering their heads from random debris falling above them.

You uncoupled your equipment and ran out to see the source of the commotion. Overhead, through the skylight that Steve had ungracefully fallen through just days ago, you saw a wrecked helicarrier falling fast towards the top floors of the Triskelion’s West tower.  
  
You barely had time to register that your plan to disable Insight had worked and Steve had come through, before you started running in the opposite direction towards the nearest exit. But your eyes fell on a large display by the Comms room, the flashing alert catching your attention as you followed the stampeding crowd of evacuating employees:  
  
 **DECRYPTION SUCCESSFUL - TRANSFER COMPLETE**

“They published… everything…?” The far end of building had started coming down, but you couldn’t look away: HYDRA, Arnim Zola, Alexander Pierce, The Avengers, SHIELD personnel… You.  
  
Your role in Project Insight, your deal with Pierce, your past with Novak… available for the world to see. Even if HYDRA didn’t have a reason to find you now, the US government certainly would. 

Another crash, much closer now, and glass flying everywhere made you instinctively duck. The building was about to come down on you, there was nothing left to do now, no time to take anything.

_Just run._ You were not safe anywhere anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

_Fish it. Ditch it. Start over._

The shuttle stopped at 21st & Constitution, a pre-determined rendezvous point away from the wreck at Theodore Roosevelt Island, for further instructions. From whom, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t planning on sticking around long enough to find out anyway. If it was true that Pierce had been up at the World Security Council, he was currently sinking down into the Potomac with what was left of SHIELD.  
  
Frantic whispers buzzed around you, and it was hard for you to discern what was fact or fiction. Black Widow had disseminated both SHIELD and HYDRA files to the public. Fury had made a miraculous triumphant entrance somehow, authorizing it himself. Captain America had sacrificed himself once again, the hero now at the bottom of the river after disabling the helicarriers. There was too much uncertainty, too much that was unverified, but all you knew for sure was that you needed to disappear. You wouldn’t let yourself be dragged into a debriefing, you’d never make it out again.  
  
Dumping your outer layers in a nearby trash can and swiping a cap from a nearby seat, you backed away from the crowd of confused agents spilling out of the vehicles and slipped down to the underground station, before the patrols you heard in the distance could be seen coming down the Avenue.  
  
Your apartment building seemed to have been left untouched, the side entrance camera still angled down. HYDRA probably had their hands full to bother too much with it after your extraction. You had only been gone for 3 days or so, but too much had happened in that time for this to feel… familiar. You’d been staying here for so long you’d thought it would make a good home base at some point.   
A sense of displacement flooded your insides as you reactivated the security protocols and began breaking down what was left of your equipment. None of this, not even you, belonged here anymore.  
  
A single screen looped in to the DOT network feeds monitored neighboring activity; it would alert you if anyone got too close for comfort while you worked in silence, pondering your next move. Your identity was now a matter of public record. Your connections were bound to be burned once again. And there were plenty of people with valid reasons to be looking for you.  
  
If Romanoff and Fury had indeed contributed to you being outed as one of Pierce’s agents, you couldn’t very well reach out to any of the Avengers for assistance. And Stark would have figured out how you broke into his system by now, he’d make sure it never happened again. At least you’d had the presence of mind to swipe enough data from his private servers to tide you over. Maybe you could pick up a new trade overseas; current Stark tech was an expensive rarity outside the States.  
  
It was all coming full circle; bringing you back to that fateful night in New York, saying goodbye to Bug before you got busted. You’d planned to leave the country, even back then, a fake identity ready to grant you safe passage practically anywhere.  
  
It’s what you wanted, right? Be a free agent. No more orders, no more threats. _And yet…_  
  
Your backups secured and your virtual network disassembled, it was dark out by the time you’d finished the last charge that would destroy your network array. You’d incorporated a low-pulse emitter; resulting in a short-range electromagnetic blast that wouldn’t damage the structural integrity of the building; a significant upgrade to the last few times you had to get rid of evidence. Stark really did have all the good stuff.  
  
You were about to shut down the feeds and head out, when you saw it; just as elusive as the first time. A sliver of a shadow, a hint of metal, there one second and gone the next. The missing piece. The one mystery you hadn’t been able to solve, your one chance at closure after this whole disaster. You were desperate for it. Neither Pierce, nor Gunther, not even Steve could give you that now.   
  
And you knew exactly where to go.

***

The front door of the Ideal Federal Reserve Bank was wide open, cautiously leading you into the dark empty lobby. It was quiet. Too quiet, apart from the sizzle of dying fluorescent bulbs on some of the pillars. You’d seen plenty of activity inside the other day; a stark contrast to the vibe it was giving you now.   
  
Dangerous.   
  
You shook off the feeling, having come too far to turn back now. More lights sporadically lit your way down a hallway on your left. You hesitated when you saw a security camera had been ripped from the wall, wires exposed and thrown in a corner.   
  
_Was he still here?_  
  
You continued slowly, your shoes barely making a sound on the marble floors, until you reached a half open brass gate, more broken bulbs and sparks flying inside a large oval-shaped room. The vault was just as empty as the lobby, with only what you assumed was a chair hooked up to hydraulics of some kind and a large tank. You ran you hand down an armrest and you couldn’t hold back the chills it gave you.  
  
There were cameras set up around the room, but they were offline, and the database on the control panel next to the contraption was empty. No feeds, no footage, no records of any kind. This was one HYDRA secret they really didn’t want anyone to know about.  
  
The place had been cleaned out, but clearly in a hurry. Tools were strewn about, a few papers still littered the floor around the machine. You bent down to pick up the notes. Most in Russian, encrypted in codes, but you managed to decipher some key terms in between the equations. Serum. Mind. Comply.   
_  
What had they been doing to him? And for how long?_  
  
A loud bang in the distance made you jump, turning sharply to look behind you. Without thinking, you stuffed the papers in your bag as you ran towards the source of the sound.   
  
_What are you doing, are you crazy??_ But you couldn’t let this go. You’d lost everything. You knew it was irrational, but you weren’t about to lose him now, he was so close… _  
_  
You skidded to a halt when you heard hurried footsteps across the lobby, and slammed your back against the wall to hide yourself from sight.  
  
“Let’s get the fuck out of here!”   
  
You peeked around the corner. Two men in white were running down a corridor, holding all matter of folders, papers, and briefcases; panic on their faces and panting loudly. Just then, you heard a crash from the direction they had come from. The two men sped away out the door, but you waited with bated breath until the frantic sounds of their running had receded, and walked slowly towards the source of the sound. This passage was darker than the one you came from, lit only by a single open door at the end of the hall. One foot in front of the other and taking deep breaths, you stepped inside.  
  
The window had been ripped out of the wall, a light breeze flowing in from the opening. Empty. He was gone.  
  
You slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. Was this how it was going to be now? Always a step behind, never ahead? Never catching up until it was too late?  
  
_It will be, if you stay here._  
  
You eventually roused yourself up and out of there, but not before your feet took you back to the vault. You didn’t like how uncomfortable that chair made you. You’d delved into technology and information like a drug your whole life; matching its evolution and knowledge with your own, always on the pursuit of something more. This… this piece of machinery had no growth to it, no heart, no purpose… it just oozed pain. It made your skin crawl.  
  
Nothing would come of stripping it down; the components were ancient, and you had no use for a medieval-looking torture device in your arsenal, anyway. Rewiring some circuits from the control panel and grabbing a couple of small   
C-4 blocks from your bag, you rigged them up and crossed the lobby.  
  
If there was ever a time for a clean slate, it was now. Judging from the way the place had been cleaned out, it was a safe bet to think HYDRA was still out there. You had the only working copy of the algorithm now, and they’d have figured out that Steve had help stopping Project Insight. It was only a matter of time before it led them back to you. And Stark may never want to admit he’d been bested by a random hacker, but his curiosity was stronger than his pride, that much you knew. Would he send the Avengers after you?  
  
You smiled mischievously as you clicked your detonator, the distant blast heard from inside the bank, and walked away.   
  
_Catch me if you can._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil' less angst, a lil' more swearing, and some drinking. Bit exposition-heavy, but you got a lot to catch up on. You could consider this the beginning of Part 2, in which Bucky finally makes an appearance (when I first started writing this I didn't even know if there was going to be a pairing at all, fyi), and there is another time jump later in the series that could be considered Part 3. But I just didn't want to divide them that way, no particular reason. Anyway, enjoy! --BJ

**_1 YEAR LATER - Bucharest, Romania_ **

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Cyrus.”

“That’s all the boss gave me, sweetheart. Anything more than that and you’re gonna have to wait longer for it.”

“If I had a dollar for every time a man’s said that to me, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

There were only a couple more patrons inside the darkened room, so the dive bar wasn’t loud or rowdy by any means, but the owner kept the jukebox at top volume whenever you came in. A greedy landlord had tried forcing him out not long after your arrival, but by the time you’d finished extorting him for all he was worth, the scumbag had vanished without a forwarding address for rent payments. There was always a drink waiting for you at the bar, a safe room in the attic if you needed it, and the promise of anonymity and privacy should it be required. And at the moment, a drawling ballad was conveniently drowning out how Cyrus was trying to screw you out of your cut.

“Maybe we can make up a new kind of agreement,” he replied suggestively.

“You can’t even follow through on this deal, fat chance asshole,” you sneered.

He sighed, running a hand over his shaven head. “Look, they just want proof that the intel’s legit.” You rolled your eyes at that. “It checks out, they’ll pay you for the equipment you have by next week.”

“Oh, so now I’m building your tech AND getting screwed? That costs extra, Cyrus. I swear, it’s like free enterprise means nothing to you people.

His new boss Mihai, who was slowly taking over multiple sectors in Bucharest, had approached you both with what he called a “long-term profitable opportunity” a few weeks ago, but you knew better than to accept any more offers from strangers by now. You’d already checked in on him and his crew anyway; they had a bad habit of regularly being booked on petty crimes, only to have Mihai bail them out. You’d only deal with them through Cyrus; he had a habit of never getting caught.

You took a swig of the Țuică on the table as he scoffed. “You got two choices Cyrus,” you continued, not giving him a chance to retort. “Go back to Mihai empty handed and without a supplier, or you call him up and transfer the 40% you owe me by tonight.”

“Y/N…”

“I mean, I could just take it myself,” you cut him off again, leaning back on your chair. “But we both know who he’s gonna blame for that…,” you took another drink, making your point clear.

He huffed, clearly annoyed. “Why you gotta screw me like that, Y/N?”

“Just following your lead, _sweetheart_.” You polished off the rest of your drink and stood up, grabbing the bag of cash he’d brought with him and patting him on the shoulder as you headed out. “Midnight, Cyrus.” You heard him slam his hand down on the table, making you laugh to yourself as you pushed your way through the door.

You’d think he’d know better after all this time. You’d paid off the favor you owed him from back in Prague a long time ago. A year ago you had no connections, no one to angle for information. But Cyrus had given you an in; he admired your work and your ability to secure and maintain supply and intelligence channels. The sting of Gunther and Pierce never really left you, always making you question whether keeping a connection like Cyrus around for so long was worth it. You figured that as long as your paychecks never bounced he was good to keep around in a pinch. Until now, that is.

Mihai had gotten in his head, giving Cyrus a bogus “Acquisitions” title, which ensured his crew a direct channel to you. You’d lined up this gig with him before he let it slip that Mihai was bankrolling him, and you’d made it clear it would be the last. It was time to move again, and you‘d need to find a new facilitator, now that Cyrus had ditched the freelance life. Which is why this impromptu pay cut was annoying you so much. You were in dire need of restocking resources before you got out of Bucharest. Both your notoriety and your anonymity were expensive to maintain.

America’s cyber-intelligence was a joke after DC, everything was public knowledge by now… except for what you had on The Winter Soldier and Zola’s algorithm. Not that you’d ever distribute that; it’d be a surefire way of getting flagged by either SHIELD or HYDRA.

You’d of course kept up with the news: Pierce was gone, the majority of his HYDRA cells taken in. The Avengers were trying to track down all of his operatives, whether they were still aligned with HYDRA or not. And Rumlow had gone on this free-for-all terrorism binge under the moniker Crossbones. He may have claimed he wasn’t HYDRA anymore, but you knew Rumlow the loyalist was still in there somewhere. Someone who wasn’t interested in following in Pierce’s footsteps wouldn’t have bothered to blow up the Smithsonian with over 5,000 people inside, or desperately try to disable hidden SHIELD bases everywhere he went.

You had tried not to dwell on the past; while bitter at how things ended, you had to stay alive, and that was a priority. You were familiar with Eastern Europe’s politics and allies, so once you were able to extract information from one source, it wasn’t hard to develop a proper intelligence network of your own. By the time you ended up here you’d already made connections throughout Austria, Hungary, Kosovo, and Bulgaria. It wasn’t hard to put your ability with small range explosives to good use, or to develop learning machine software and hardware, thanks to your modified algorithm and your handy supply of Stark tech. You had become a necessity, and Cyrus and Mihai were well aware. You’d learned your lesson from DC; if you wanted to stay ahead, you needed a larger network. The more eyes and tech you had around Europe, the better you could prepare for the worst, if it ever came.

You turned the corner of Ion Heliade Rădulescu and walked towards number 24, your new home base for the past 3 months. The entrance to the mostly abandoned building had been conveniently locked and hidden from view by massive shrubbery, but a hidden doorway to a staircase was accessible through a tight alley in the back. Public records showed this property was privately owned by an anonymous buyer, a sign outside with an unlisted number that was always busy, ensuring you wouldn’t have any unwanted visitors. 

Hiding in plain sight had served you well in the past year. So had placing strategic cameras around the area of every base you operated out of. If anything, the events of your past life at HYDRA 2.0 had only increased your sense of paranoia. You’d know if anyone was coming way in advance… and you always made sure to have an effective escape plan if it came to it.

No one suspected that in one of the building’s rooms there ran a large network systems array, not unlike the one you’d had at your Triskelion headquarters, monitoring activity within an 10 mile radius, and tracking cyber-intelligence from every single one of your past clients within the last year: politicians, mob bosses, religious leaders. The only way to stay ahead of the game was to keep track of your own route. If there was even a blip that there was activity anywhere near one of your previous locations, that was your signal to leave town. Surviving was always the key. 

“All right, Barb,” you switched on your modified algorithm software, ready to start planning your getaway. “Time to get busy.” If Cyrus didn’t come through with the rest of your cut, you were going to have to take matters into your own hands, and that meant you’d have less than 10 hours to get out of the city, and less than a day to leave Romania completely. You got progressively angrier the more you thought about it. So far you’d had no reason to skip town in bad terms with anyone, and the possibility of breaking your streak was uncomfortable to say the least.

Pulling up multiple maps of the region on the screen, you calculated train routes and browsed through your current rolodex for possible connections that could get you where you needed to go quickly and discreetly. You’d have to make some transfers and cash drops beforehand, otherwise you’d miss your window and have to wait another week to try again.

But thankfully a blip from Barb made you relax. “Ah, good boys,” you smiled to yourself when you saw 50K Leu had been added to your account. Cyrus must have really greased Mihai for that. Maybe now he’d get the hint that messing with you was not a smart move. Still…

Your eyes traveled over the maps, still calculating how long it would take you to hop a train and jet across country lines. Maybe leaving wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If Mihai got his way, he’d be the sole owner of the entire city by next year. And if Stark got wind of his tech being used in this part of the world, you’d rather not be here when he found out.

“Take me away,” you said, clicking a few more commands and prompts for your getaway plan, and letting your software do the rest.

  
***

You worked through the night on Mihai’s low-pulse emitters, a modified version that caused a loud sonic blast, capable of incapacitating 4 to 5 adversaries at once, and disabling any automatic weapons they may have on them. The parts were fairly simple to manufacture with the help of a 3-D printer, but non-traceable and durable materials were costly. It’s what got you your reputation in the first place; anyone else offering cheaper options of your tech was basically just selling non-functional scraps. There was no one else on this hemisphere that could master Stark tech, reprogram and assemble on a deadline. They all eventually returned to you, tail between their legs, ready to throw money at the problem they’d caused, and you always delivered.  
  
You were finishing up programming a detonator, when a series of beeps from Barb made you look up.  
  
“What’s going on, girl?” You leaned forward from your spot on the floor and peered at the data on the screen.   
  
**_Crossbones a.k.a. Brock Rumlow  
Location: 36.214737 - 5.432406_**

“Gibraltar,” you muttered. Last seen 2 nights ago, a few black and white satellite images loaded up on screen of the subject, a masked Rumlow and crew shaking down a couple of the locals. Spain was never on your route, but you knew some of your signature explosives had made their way to their docks at some point. If was a long shot, but if any of your buyers blabbed, he could track the tech’s origin to you. And you were not going to wait for that to happen.

Time to start packing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some action scenes and shootouts. Also antoher experiment into merging POVs. This happens a little bit more fluidly in the next chapters. --BJ

“You are not coming back?” you heard Vlad the bartender’s thick Romanian accent coming up the stairs from your spot behind a box full of titanium alloy parts you were taping up. Now that the matter with Cyrus and Mihai was settled, wiping any evidence of your presence in Romania was the next step. Vlad had been kind enough to close the bar for a day to help you pack up what you had left in the attic.

“I usually never do,” you shrugged, standing up and wiping your hands on your jeans. “You gonna miss me?”

His shaggy white hair peeked over the landing as he made his way into the safe room with more empty boxes for you. “I’m going to miss the rent.” You laughed at that, holding out your hands to take the items from him.

Vlad was a large and imposing figure to everyone who visited, but you knew better. He had little to no family left, and was often lonely. You helping him with his landlord situation made him protective towards you, the only person who had cared enough about him from day one. True, you had been less motivated by the desire of friendship than the need of a safe haven, but you appreciated his kindness all the same. It was hard to come by in your line of work.

“I’d have thought you’d be glad to get rid of me,” you started assembling the boxes, while Vlad picked up another you had already packed and straightened up with a groan. “Ah, you help me, I help you. And _that_ ,” he emphasized the word, “is forever, ok?” he finished with a wink. You smiled at him. “Thanks Vlad.”

You turned back to tape another box, but he gestured at you to follow him instead. “Finish that later. A drink first,” he said as he carefully stepped down the stairs and disappeared from view. “My back needs it.”

“I’ll have someone tell you where to send the boxes to next week,” you said, climbing down after him.  
  
He put the box he was carrying down on the landing and walked behind the bar for a bottle of house Vodka and two glasses. “And if you don’t?” he said seriously, pouring out a drink for the both of you.

“Well, if you find a way to reverse-engineer those into a bar tap, they’re all yours.” He chuckled at that. 

“I keep it safe for you.” You clinked glasses and drank. It was a tough lesson you had tried to ignore throughout your travels: trusting anyone had its risks, but it did make things easier when you could count on a familiar face. You were just lucky that Vlad was only this warm and caring towards you. Making connections was a necessary evil in your line of work.

You finished your drink, and checked the time, sighing out loud. You still had to go meet up with your new facilitator; she had come in just for the day to meet face to face for a cash exchange in order to cement your agreement for the next six months, and a secure route into Odesa, your next stop towards your goal of monopolizing cyber-intelligence in Eastern Europe. 

“I gotta go,” you said, pushing your empty glass away and hopping of the barstool. “I’ll be back to finish clearing out, ok?” 

“You going to meet with your friend?,” Vlad asked, wiping down the bar.

You turned back towards him, confused. You hadn’t told him about your contact. “What friend? You mean Cyrus?”

“No no, big, tall, blond. Last night, he asked for you.” He wrinkled his face. “Angry looking.”

Your eyes scanned the room around you immediately by habit. That description definitely did not match your contact, and you had agreed to meet in a sector across the city, anyway. They didn’t know about this place.   
  
“Who else was here?” you said, lowering your voice and moving closer to the bar. “What did you tell him?” There was no apparent hostility toward Vlad in your tone, but the underlying threat was there: if he’d talked, he was a loose end… just like anyone else.

He shook his head quickly, “No one, just me. It was late, almost closing. You know I say nothing,” he finished, honestly. He wouldn’t risk crossing you, he had nothing to gain from it.

“Where’d he sit?” you whispered, eyes still on Vlad.  
  
He nodded towards a barstool two seats away from you. You made a dash towards it, turning over the stool, ripping the leather seat apart with the box-cutter still in your pants pocket, and rifling through the stuffing. Nothing. You reached under the bar top and started running your hand around the grooves, until you felt it. You held up the small transmitter, green bulb flashing, a scratched-off SHIELD insignia, barely recognizable at the end. You looked back to Vlad, eyes wide, and breathing shallow. 

He gulped. “Go.”  
  


***  
  


Back at your control room, you armed the safeguard rig you’d installed at the door your first day here. You had been hoping you wouldn’t have to use it, but desperate times…

You suspected you only had minutes before they found you.

You shoved everything in the room within blast radius, grabbed your netbook with Barb’s full backup on it, stuffed it in your bag, and dragged an old duvet cover towards the window facing the alley. You looked out below, making sure the coast was clear before you shimmied onto the fire escape outside, throwing the duvet to make a cushioned landing for your duffel; there was no way you were letting Barb get damaged. But in your frantic rush, the bag slipped off your grip, and you didn’t notice the man who had materialized by the duvet below until it was too late.  
  
“Watch out!” you said, as loud as you dared, already grimacing at the unfortunate turn of events unfolding below you. But, with lightning-fast reflexes, the man took a step to the side and grabbed the bag with his left arm before it hit the ground. You let out a sigh of relief and rushed down the stairs towards meet him.   
  
“Nice save,” you said, slightly out of breath. He was broad-shouldered, frayed-rim on the dirty baseball cap he was wearing, dark hair underneath. You reached for your bag, he handed it over with a gloved hand and a perplexed look on his face. “Thanks, man.” you sighed again, hugging your bag to your chest for a minute, relieved nothing seemed to be damaged. 

But he seemed to be listening for something, looking around as if voices were coming from inside the walls surrounding the alley. Finally he shot you a sharp look. “Who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” you said, taking a step back. Great, last thing you needed was a crazy homeless guy slowing down your escape.

“Whatever you have in there,” he pointed at the bag in your arms. “They want it, and they’re here.” Your eyes went wide. How the hell would he even know that? You hadn’t even had time to cross-reference the transmitter, nor investigate who exactly was after you. You suspected from the SHIELD tech that it might be Rumlow, but he hadn’t been the one at the bar. 

You followed his gaze up the wall to the window you had just crawled out from, and looked back at him, your utter confusion quickly turning into annoyance.

“What, you got super-hearing or something?,” your sarcasm lashed out once again, but the look he gave you made you think he wasn’t about to dispute that assumption. Responding by giving him your own look of disbelief, you shook your head, “This is fucking ridiculous”.

You grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket and yanked him behind the trash bins on the far side of the alley, kneeling down in a flash and digging through your bag.

“Can you hear from here?” you asked him, still not believing you were having this conversation.

“Something like that, yeah.” He was still on high alert, looking around, as if to pinpoint the source of the sounds he was supposedly hearing. You shook your head again. You’d prided yourself in being adaptable in times of duress, but accepting this impossible scenario for what it was could really backfire on you now.

“Ok, if you hear them trying to get into _that_ room,” you pointed at the window you had just come out of, “say ’ _now_ ’, got it?”

He looked at you, and from your position on the ground, you felt his ice blue eyes, somehow freezing you in place as he asked, “What are you going to do?" 

You swallowed, not able to tear your gaze from his. An image of Steve Rogers from a year ago, the way smiled at you with those bright blue eyes of his in that elevator, floated suddenly into your mind. Something about this guy was tugging at your subconscious, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it just yet. 

Pushing the bizarreness of it all out of your mind, you turned your attention back to your bag. "Just be ready to run.”

He crouched in front of you in a flash, grabbing your arm. "Why should I help you?” His eyes bore into you, a ferocity in his voice far too familiar to you. Rumlow and his STRIKE buddies had that same ruthlessness, no doubt a remnant of their military background. The fact that they were heartless Nazi scumbags didn’t tug at your heartstrings, either.

“Easy, Officer,” you shot back, pulling your hand away.

“Sergeant,” he corrected you quickly, but his expression changed just as suddenly. He let out a deep hiss and grabbed his head with both hands, as if he had just remembered something that was causing him great pain.

“Oh… ok, ok,” you stammered, not sure who you were trying to calm down more, him or yourself. _Goddamn it, this is NOT the moment for a war flashback._ “All right, Sergeant, breathe with me, ok? Look at me,” he raised his gaze back towards you, his pain palpable in the air. Under any other circumstances you would have bolted already. "Breathe in" you began following your own instructions so he would follow your lead. “Breathe out,” he nodded and followed your lead. “That’s it, you’ll be ok, just keep breathing.”

All of a sudden his eyes went wide. “Now.”

“What?”

“NOW.”

 _Oh shit._ You pulled out the detonator you’d been searching for from within your bag and clicked. The loud BANG made you both turn towards the window, soot and dirt now flowing out of it, a few yells were heard in the distance.

“Time to go, Sergeant!” you started turning to run towards the main avenue, but when he stood up, he grabbed your hand once again, his face set.

“This way” he said, and led you towards another alley to the right. You had almost cleared it when he pushed you behind another dumpster, covering you with his wide frame. You barely had time to react and close your eyes when you heard the gunshots. 

You cowered behind the man, covering your head with your arms, and waited for the inevitable. _This is it,_ you thought. _I’m going to die here because I tried the good samaritan bullshit, like an idiot._ It took you a while to realize that nothing ever did hit you, and after what seemed like a few ricochet sounds, the shooting came to a stop.

You opened your eyes cautiously, and as your savior pulled you up, you saw hints of metal peeking through his left sleeve. For a split second you panicked, thinking the bullet rounds had pierced his arm, frantically wondering where the nearest hospital was… but then you noticed there was no blood anywhere. The metal was wasn’t bullets. It was his arm.

The gunshots may have missed you, but realization hit you like a barrage. You stared at him, shock spreading through your face. “Holy shit.”

He looked back at you, a grim expression on his face. Both suspended in frozen time; you didn’t have his apparent super hearing powers, but you knew he was considering the possibility of just running and leaving you behind, just like you were. He’d been on the run as long as you had after DC, but you hadn’t bothered to tap into that deep dark well in all this time; just chalked it up to another secret from a past life that you would never get an answer for. But now… You knew your fish it and ditch it moment was gone. _What the fuck do I do now?_

The sirens and shouting in the distance made you both react. He snapped his head in the direction of the sound, taking in a sharp breath before turning back to you.

“Safe house,” The Winter Soldier said. “Follow me.”

  
***

The building was rundown, possibly condemned. He led you without a word around a corner, opening up a wooden makeshift door, and after ushering you inside, dropped a heavy metal bar to lock it in place with a grunt.

“You’re really him, aren’t you?” you couldn’t help yourself.

He froze, his hands still on the bar.

“The Win–” he closed the distance between you in a flash, grabbing you with his left arm and pushing you up on the wall, covering your mouth with his right hand.

“Don’t. Say. It,” he hissed, a sharp whisper that sent chills down your spine. You felt the metal hardness of his gloved hand on your arm; if his grip on you were any stronger, you’d be in the market for one like his. He seemed to realize his brusqueness though, and after taking a deep breath, he slowly removed his hand from your face. “Paper walls,” he whispered, blue eyes still on yours, as if making sure you understood. He was incredibly close, you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “It’s too notorious a name to blurt out like that, even here." 

You nodded, half dazed. It was like staring down a bear; you didn’t want to make any sudden movements. He kept his eyes on you for a few seconds longer, before he let go of you completely, but you still didn’t dare move.

"Why were they after you?” his voice low.

You debated internally whether to say anything. It had been your experience that the less you shared, the longer you stayed alive. You’d seen what The Winter Soldier had been capable of back in DC, and there were still traces of that violent nature in this man, now standing a few inches away from you, yet… he _was_ different. You’d deduced correctly that he’d probably been on the run for as long as you had, there weren’t many creature comforts in this tiny basement he called a safe house. You started eyeing your surroundings for possible escape routes; you were pretty sure there had to be at least three exits that you could–

“Look, you’re clearly in trouble, and I won’t blame you if you want to run,” he said, abruptly interrupting your train of thought. “But if you do, you gotta keep quiet. About me.” His face was serious, his eyes desperate. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me, or…” he trailed off, and again he moved closer to you. “Please,” his low voice shook a little. “I’m not… _that_ anymore, I just… you can’t–”

“Ok,” you said far too quickly, wishing he’d back away a couple of steps as he struggled to articulate what he wanted to say. His entire body was radiating anxious heat and it was making the room spin. The fact that you hadn’t had a decent meal in days and had just spent the last of your energy during your escape didn’t help either. You shook your head a little to snap out of it, “Promise.” You looked into his eyes again, and they seemed to relax a bit at your words. “And I don’t have to run. Unless, you want me to, that is.”

He nodded, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as he stepped back and moved away towards the kitchen sink. “Do you have somewhere else to go?” He filled up a glass of water.

“Not at the moment,” you said hesitantly. Your hideout was busted, and you couldn’t go back to Vlad’s any time soon. Your Odesa contact was probably long gone, your trip now cancelled. You’d have to start on a new identity all over again, and it would take you much longer than a week this time with all your resources compromised.

He sighed handing you the glass. “Got any money?”

“That’s never really been a problem for me,” you shrugged, gratefully gulping down the water.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the subject. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of a situation he didn’t think he’d find himself in. You were just a stranger to him, there was no reason why he should help you. But you had helped him, in the alley. A flash of a memory and he was helpless, until you talked him off the ledge. It felt like… partners, if only for a moment.  
  
Partners. The word brought another brief memory. They were getting more and more frequent, he’d have to remind himself to write it down before he forgot it again. But his mind wasn’t the only one trying to process today’s events.  
  
All your frustrations about DC came flooding back Here he was, in the flesh, not on a DOT feed this time. And the questions circling your mind once again brought out your desire to know more. How did he end up out here? He’d been at the bank that night, that much you knew. But staying hidden from even the deepest intelligence circles, especially when you had been planting your seed in every city in the continent… Nobody knew where he’d gone after DC… except for you. And this was the kind of intel that could get you off the hook, maybe even off the grid, long enough for you to get out of here.

Maybe he could teach you a thing or two, help you cover your tracks better… along with some valuable tidbits about his origin story, and you’d be in the wind before anyone realized who your very exclusive source really was. If only you hadn’t promised you wouldn’t say anything…

 _Trust is bullshit_ , your mantra, inherited from Novak all those years ago, instantly invading your thoughts. _He should know better_ , you told yourself, desperately burying that unwelcome nagging feeling of guilt deep down. You had promised yourself long ago you wouldn’t let yourself get used again. He was just collateral damage, your way out. You’d use him before he got the chance to turn the tables on you, like everyone else seemed to do.

A plan finally formulating in your brain, you cleared your throat. He looked at you, tearing himself away from the now turbulent thoughts evidently clouding his mind.

“Maybe… I can return the favor,” you began.


	11. Chapter 11

Your agreement with Sarge didn’t come without its challenges. He’d smuggled you into a building about 15 minutes away; the musty room without much except a mattress, small kitchen with a fridge and a table. Some cinder blocks and wood planks were set up as makeshift shelves along the wall. He’d explained (not in so many words) his strategic placement of these seemingly non-descript items, escape routes, and preventive measures should someone try to break in. You couldn’t help but marvel at the precise planning he’d curated. His survivor’s instinct was on a whole different level than yours, that much you could tell.

But as soon as he’d made it clear he wouldn’t consciously let you leave the studio apartment whenever you wanted, you had to put your foot down.

“You know, I’m not much for playing the ‘Damsel Stuck in the Tower part’.” you said, crossing your arms. “Last time someone tried that, they ended up at the bottom of the Potomac.” 

You saw his eyes widen slightly. “Potomac?” He blinked rapidly, as if the single fluorescent bulb from the living room suddenly hurt him. He winced, turning away from you and holding on to the table with both hands, trying to steady himself.

“Oh god, not this again,” you muttered under your breath, but you instinctively rushed forward to slide the chair behind him, so he could sit down before he fell over. His hands were shaking, and he kept looking around for something.

“Hey, just breathe Sarge, ok?” You murmured, kneeling in front of him and making him focus his attention on you. “Remember, back at the alley? Just like before.” He gave his head a little shake, and let out a sputtering breath as he tried to follow your cues again.

You couldn’t help but feel for the guy. He’d obviously seen some shit… but, you couldn’t pass up this perfect opportunity to start working on your plan. He was vulnerable, and you were the only lifeline around. Pierce might have been a prick, but he had taught you an awful lot that had kept you in business… and alive.

“What’s up with that anyway?,” you asked, making your voice sound as concerned as you could make it. “Did you have an accident or something?”

His answers were usually non-committal, “Something like that,” he’d say. He wouldn’t even tell you his name, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with “Sarge”. It seemed to keep him grounded enough whenever he had those episodes, and he never offered up another alternative. Any other nickname you tried to give him resulted in his utter annoyance until he’d leave the premises so he wouldn’t have to hear another one.

“You’re my boy, Blue.“

“No.”

“Tin Man.”

“No.”

“Sergeant Brood?”

“STOP.”

“Wait, come back, Mr. Krabs!”

SLAM

  
You followed his lead for awhile; it turned into this strange game you both played with each other. You’d try to pry into how and why he stopped being the world’s deadliest assassin, he would question you about who and why those men had tracked you down; neither giving away what the other one wanted to know. In all honesty, you wouldn’t be able to answer him properly if you could. There were a great many people with plenty of reasons to be after you. It was just a matter of knowing which of them had enough resources to lead them to you.

Sarge may have been less than forthcoming with details of his life, but he was following through on, not just telling you how he managed to evade detection for the past year, but showing you. You’d had to improvise while Barb was still in analog mode, so you both had come up with modified escape plans in case you were both compromised, basic self-preservation tactics if you were ever worried about being followed, and what to do if you actually were. 

By now you’d secured enough material (unknowingly donated by the electronics store nearby), allowing you to set up Barb as close as you could get her to your previous setup. Connecting through secure VPNs and rerouting proxy channels, Barb began reloading every bit of data from your backups, while you successfully hooked her up with traffic and security camera feeds to fill in the gaps you couldn’t cover with your limited range.

You weren’t a fighter by any means, opting for explosive ammunitions to keep any hostile enemies at bay, but he taught you basic evasive maneuvers, if you ever found yourself surrounded. You in turn showed him all the tracking applications and possibilities that Barb had allowed you to put together for your own survival, teaching him how to secure camera feeds and how to switch from one feed to another.

“So you can basically see everything around the building?” Sarge had asked, mild amazement palpable in his tone. You smiled to yourself; it wasn’t often that you got to boast about your skills to someone. Your line of work had been a lonely one of late.

“I can see up to an 8 mile radius of our location,” you gloated, turning to him and seeing his blue eyes scan Barb’s holographic screen, his mouth slightly open. “Just wait until I get all my old gear, you have no idea what she can do.”

“She?”

You’d smiled and said nothing more, turning your attention to more important matters.

The transmitter you’d found at Vlad’s, now disabled in your bag, was the only thing that could clue you in to whoever had caught up to you. You had made it a point to be as anonymous as you could manage during your travels around the Continent. And there was only one person who had bothered to follow your trajectory this far: Cyrus. It seemed only fitting to drop him a line first. 

Finally gaining access to your encrypted channels, you sent an alert to Cyrus’ last known number with one of your old signatures.

_**  
Heliotrope**_. A few minutes later…

**_Semaphore. Thought you dead._ **

**_Way it should be._ **

**_Same place?_ **

**_Not V._**

You sent him the time and the coordinates for a car wash 5 minutes away.

**_Big trouble?_ **

**_Not from me. Don’t be late._ **

  
It took you almost the entire day until your meeting with Cyrus to convince Sarge that you’d be careful. “We need cash and my gear’s location is being watched,” you explained. You still hadn’t shared with him the fact that you still had money from Cyrus’ last job, and you meant to keep it that way. That was your getaway fund, need to know basis only. “I have to go and figure this out.”

“There’s a chance someone will see you.”

“Uh, yeah, there’s always a chance someone will see me.”

“It’s different when you’re being looked for.” he gritted his teeth. “People talk. No one knows you’re here for now. Start coming and going by yourself too much, and someone will find out.”

“This might be the only chance we have to get an actual lead on whoever is looking for us!”

“You,” he was quick to correct you. 

You scowled. “ _Us._ ”

He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time since you’d crash-landed in his life, and you couldn’t help but follow suit. It had been difficult to adapt to having a… well, a partner in the past few weeks. You’d both been on your own for too long, each with their own way of doing things.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, making you scoff. “I’ll keep my distance, clear the perimeter, and let you know if and when the coast is clear,” he continued. He’d developed a series of signals, involving two pieces of broken mirrors attached to bent wire hangers, when it became clear that venturing outside for food or basic necessities was unavoidable.

You sighed. “Is that the only way you’re going to let me leave?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
Holding back a growl, you opted for busying yourself with grabbing your things, including a flash drive you’d been working on for your meeting with Cyrus. “I don’t like being backed into a corner, Sarge,” you said, wheeling around towards him with a frown, arms crossed. But to your surprise, a small smug smile appeared on his lips as he stuck his hands in his pockets and fixed you with those blue eyes of his. “Neither do I.”

***

Cyrus was already leaning against the innermost wall at the car wash smoking a cigarette, but you waited for Sarge’s signal, coming from an overlooking nearby roof, before joining him. You had to admit, it gave you a strange peace of mind to know there was someone watching your back. Not a feeling you should be getting used to, by any means.

“You’re not planning on blowing up this lovely establishment are you?,” Cyrus said, as soon as you approached him, his voice amused.

“Hilarious,” you said, your hoodie pulled down low. You signaled back to Sarge that you and Cyrus were alone without Cyrus noticing, and leaned against the wall next to him. “You wouldn’t know anything about the guys who ran me out, would you?”

“Not a trace of them after that. Weird rumors though,” he took a drag from the cigarette before continuing. “Talk of some bodyguard that helped you outrun them?”

You scoffed, trying to slow your heart rate at his words. “Since when do I need help outrunning someone?”

Cyrus half-smiled, smoke billowing around his face. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

You bit the inside of your lip; this wasn’t the time for a clapback battle with Cyrus. You knew he was desperate to show his worth to Mihai, and losing you as a supplier would affect his current rank in the crew. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I thought you made it clear that you wouldn’t work again with a… what was it?” he pretended to be deep in though, a finger tapping his temple, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Oh! A ‘greedy mob gopher’, right?”

“Cyrus–”

“I mean, I’m flattered you came to me first. You know how much I care for my beautiful American friend,” he cupped your chin with his free hand, his dark eyes zeroed on yours. “So much that my heart almost broke when I found out you were planning on leaving without saying goodbye.”

You jerked your face away from his grasp, him still smiling that insincere smile you knew so well. You breathed deep before speaking again. “I knew someone would get close enough to warrant a quick getaway.” you held his gaze enough to make the lie convincing. “You know I would have told you otherwise, I didn’t want them to track you down too.”

He shook his head, extinguishing the cigarette and beginning to light up another. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N.”

“One more job, that’s all I need,” you paused. “And my supplies,” you added.

He snickered. “Mihai won’t go for it without–“

“Without data on who’s running Sectors 3 & 4, and exactly how to take them down?” you cut him off, a triumphant look on your face. He gaped at you, as you held out the flash drive from your pocket. “It’s all here.”

He motioned to grab it but you pulled it back out of reach, looking pointedly at him. He sighed, exhaling smoke again.

“How much?”

***

You’d agreed on an advance payment of 20% up front, plus your supplies from Vlad; Mihai would take care of getting them to you somehow. His gratitude at the possibility of taking over the leading Bucharest cartels ahead of schedule was helpful to say the least. Back at Sarge’s you waited expectantly for Barb’s beep, signaling the transfer into your private account.

“You’re building them weapons?” a disapproving look on Sarge’s face when you’d told him of your deal with Cyrus.

“Relax, it’s not that big a deal,” you secured your funds through Barb, and started listing supplies and equipment you’d need and the best way to acquire them without raising any red flags.

“This is so not what I signed up for,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, as he usually did when he was frustrated beyond belief.

“Look, it’s a simple task: I give them what they want, they give me what we need,” you snapped. “And we get another whole network with their ear to the ground about any newcomers that may be on our trail.” you turned back to Barb; she was already pricing out 3D printers from local vendors. “It’s a win-win, if you ask me.”

He sat down in a huff, tapping his foot anxiously and looking at you tapping away Barb’s prompts. “So what do we do now?”  
  
“For now, we wait for all my stuff to get here, then we can finish outfitting this place for upgraded security.” you turned, already anticipating Sarge’s protests. “Don’t worry,” you said before he could open his mouth, his eyes already narrowed enough that you could barely see the blue in them. “They won’t deliver them here, we’ll go pick them up once Cyrus gives me address.”

“I don’t trust him,” he said, a frown now on his face.

You let out a short laugh, “That’s the right mindset to have, Sarge. You shouldn’t.”

He regarded you with a solemn look, before he said, “Bucky. My name is Bucky.”


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky never really slept. Or, at least, you never saw him do so. You did see him doze off once; he was sitting at the table, absentmindedly scribbling on a leather-bound book you’d seen him flip through before, when his arm slipped off the edge of the table, startling himself awake. As usual, you were on the floor by the mattress, modifying processors and upgrading Barb’s range when the sound of his arm banging on the edge of the table made you look up. Bucky looked around disoriented.

“You ok?,” you asked, as his eyes turned to you.

“…yeah,” he said quietly, looking back down to his book as though he’d lost his place in the middle of reading a complicated story; clippings and color coded tabs all around the edges. You’d been trying to sneak a peek at it ever since that night he told you his name, after which he sneakily took it out, perusing it away from your prying gaze. But he never let it out of his sight, and had recently taken to have it on him at all times.

You’d refrained from inquiring about it, pretending you never noticed the careful way he always slid it out of sight when you came into the room, or ignoring how he’d turn his back on you before flipping through a few pages at odd times of the day. There was something vital about him in there, you were sure of it… maybe even about you. Why be so secretive about it otherwise? It was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Boring read?” you said, trying to keep the mood light. Another one of Pierce’s tactics; get them comfortable enough and they’ll tell you all their deepest darkest secrets. But Bucky didn’t even crack a smile, knowing where the conversation was headed. You tried again.

“What do you keep writing in that thing, anyway?,“ you said, trying to seem like you were less than interested in the subject.

“Nothing,” he said, way too quickly. Which you noticed.

“Seems like an awful lot of pages full of nothing,“ dropping the facade altogether, now looking intensely at him.

He returned your stare, clearly telling you to drop it. You rolled your eyes and turned resignedly back to Barb. _Fine, make me work for it_ , you thought amused. He’d already given you his name, it wouldn’t be too long before he was spilling everything else to you in time.

Your supplies had finally been recovered (along with a Țuică bottle from Vlad and a note to _“Stay low”_ , which made you smile against your better judgement), with enough material to widen Barb’s surveillance up to a 25 mile radius and outfit the room with added security.

Meanwhile, you’d tasked Barb with developing Mihai’s new weapons: she’d cleverly put together a Stark stunner prototype from your backups and one of your existing explosive models to produce a new type of stun grenade, unique on the market. According to the calculations, one grenade would create a chain reaction that would disable over ten people within a mile of detonation; useful when it came to the mobster’s crew emptying out safe houses of rival cartels in the area. Barb was running a simulation on the screen, which drew Bucky’s attention away from his book.

“Is that what you’re making for them?,” he said, tucking the book on the back waistband of his jeans and crouching down beside you.

“Among other things,” you murmured, sorting through parts from one of the boxes. “Just gotta make sure I can make enough with what I have here.”

He was quiet for a while as he saw the effects of the brand new weapon on the screen. “Can you make enough for me?”

You looked sharply at him. “You planning on blowing me up, Sarge?”

“No!” His eyes widened. “I mean… I… they look like they can pack a good punch… if we need to make a quick getaway from whoever’s after… us.” He had avoided your gaze as he spoke, until that word. _Us._ You felt goosebumps run up your arms when he said it. _Why?_

When you didn’t reply right away, he shrugged. “I mean… it’s ok if you can’t, this is all just hypothetical, right?,” he motioned lazily towards Barb’s looping sim.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth from curling up. Whether he was trying to exploit your sense of pride or flirt to get his way, he was going to lose this round. To your surprise, the ghost of a smirk was creeping up on his own face, his eyes once again on you.

“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” you said, trying to keep your face as serious as possible, but due to his smile only growing as he kept looking at you, it was obvious you were failing.

“I guess that depends on whether they work or not,” he shrugged again, not averting his gaze this time. 

_Oh, he’s good._

Your staring contest was interrupted by a blip from Barb, who had finished compiling the full list of materials you’d need. 

“Well… how do you feel about dumpster diving, then?” you said, full on smirking at him now. Bucky’s smile disappeared instantly. 

***

After much grumbling and arguing, Bucky finally accepted the list of materials you gave him, a sour look on his face as he went down to the dumpsters in the back alley of the building. Barb beeped again while you were creating a sort of assembly line with what materials you had in front of you, popping up an alert for keywords you’d programmed her to continuously search for.

**Smithsonian Recreates Virtual Museum Exhibits in Wake of Deadly Explosion** – _Captain America: The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage archives now available online_

Rumlow’s attack on the museum was still fresh on people’s minds back in the US, you gathered. It was only fitting they’d try and keep Steve prominent as the beacon of hope everyone perceived him to be.

It wasn’t hard to figure out Rumlow meant to destroy that exhibit. He always was great at keeping grudges. Cap destroyed everything he stood for, and he wanted nothing more than to return the favor. A frown had replaced your amused reaction at Bucky’s trip to the dumpster. Steve and Rumlow had been colleagues at SHIELD, friends even. Now it seemed like Rumlow wouldn’t rest until every shred of Cap and the Avengers turned to dust, no matter who stood in his way.

The Smithsonian had evidently archived every bit of footage and visuals from Cap’s exhibit for education purposes, and before you knew it, you found yourself looped in to their online servers, perusing interviews, files, photographs and footage. There he was; Steve, in all his homegrown glory at the front lines, fighting HYDRA, leading his fellow soldiers into battle. It was only fitting he’d be the one to help take down Pierce… it seemed like he’d always be stuck fighting them as long as he lived.

Did he ever see himself as a hero? Did he know, even back then, that everyone looked to him for guidance, counting on him to do what others wouldn’t dare? You recalled the heavy weight he bore back when you’d spoken to him that fateful day. He’d been carrying burdens since the War all the way to the present day. How did he manage to keep it all together? You could barely deal with your own past; running had always been easier.

A sense of melancholy plagued you inadvertently; a video of Steve and his crew of Howling Commandos now looping on Barb’s screen. Maybe in another life, you and Steve would have managed to be friends; his sense of integrity a deterrent to your moral ambiguity. But the days when Steve Rogers’ voice would invade your consciousness with valid words of wisdom were long gone. A ghost of the past that you’d left behind.

You had let the video loop a couple of times, but then a frame made you blink a couple of times, finally registering what was in front of you. You did a double-take, speeding down the frame and pausing it.

No. It couldn’t be. How in the hell did it take you this long to put it together?

_FUCK._

***

“I hope you figure out a way to use all this, I’m not going back out there,” Bucky struggled with the door as he dragged a huge garbage bag into the room. “There’s a raccoon down there.”

You slowly turned towards him, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, I know I stink, get your insults out of the way,” he walked towards you, letting go of the bag, but then his eye caught Barb’s holo screen and he froze mid-step.

A black and white video paused on a handsome twenty-something man, laughing next to Captain America, filled the screen, with a single caption: 

**Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, 107th Infantry Regiment**

Both you and Bucky looked at each other for what seemed an eternity, until Bucky turned on his heel and made for the door. 

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, jumping to your feet. His hand lingered on the doorknob, his back to you, breathing unevenly. Your own breath had gone out the window. All you knew was that you couldn’t let him leave. Not until he answered your questions. And you weren’t about to risk him having another one of his episodes out there. “Wait.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said sharply, still not daring to face you.

You tentatively took a small step towards him, and gulped. This could go down south, very fast if you didn’t play your cards right. But if you did…

“Why not?” you said softly, trying to lower the tension by letting him take the lead.

He exhaled, “It makes no difference,” he said shaking his head, still refusing to look at you. Instead he glanced towards Barb’s screen. He seemed terrified of the image now flickering in front of him. “I’m not that guy, I can’t…” he bit his lower lip. “He doesn’t exist anymore. I’m nobody.”

You’d been inching closer and closer to him. He just needed a good push and you’d have him right where you wanted him. He clenched his fist around the doorknob and turned it, but before he could wrench the door open, you rushed forward and put your hand over his, your other hand on the door. Bucky’s eyes shot up to yours, and you saw a hint of rage flash through the blue, but he didn’t act on it. You both knew he could wrench that door open and fling you backwards with a swift pull on the knob, but he chose not to. This was your chance and you seized it without hesitation.

“I said that too,” you focused as much emotion as you could on your words, your voice trembling a little for effect. His eyes narrowed, trying to recall your words. “Back at the alley, remember? You asked me who I was.” His expression turned into a curious one, wondering where you were going with this. “I can’t go back either.” You let go of the door, and lingered your hand over his for a second longer than you needed to. He looked down as you moved it away. _It’s working._

“We have to be nobodies. But that doesn’t mean we forget who we were.”

***

“Why do you care so much?,” he said suspiciously. “You said yourself, this is just temporary.”

He scanned your expression, looking for some semblance of panic, or exasperation. You were no spy, that much he knew, but he figured you hadn’t lasted this long on your own without being adept at lying.

“Because, temporary or not, I have to know who exactly I’m trusting with my life here, don’t you agree?” you said simply. He sighed resignedly; he couldn’t deny that. If you were supposed to work together, you had to trust each other… but how could he do that when he couldn’t even trust himself? He was about to reply, when you took a step even closer to him “Do you trust me, Bucky?,” you whispered.

_Oh, she was good._

“I…” Somehow this game had gotten out of hand, and he wasn’t sure whose fault it was. That day in the alley had upended his world in more ways than one. He hadn’t had someone try to help him before the way you did back there. Had it been an old forgotten instinct that made him want to look out for you? Protect, yes. Trust? That had to be earned. 

As it stood right now, you knew much more about him than he did about you. You’d somehow tipped the scales in your favor, and he knew he’d have to stick to this role that had been created for him if he wanted to correctly predict your next steps. This was just another mission… but he had no idea how it was going to end anymore.

He hung his head, before looking back up at you, fixing you with a serious look. “I don’t know if I can.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Let’s work on that, shall we?”


	13. Chapter 13

You clearly weren’t the partner type. You’d already learned that trusting anybody other than yourself led to complications, and you always ended up finding out whatever you wanted to know about everyone anyway. Watching from the sidelines was your forte; you didn’t feel that desperate need to be in sync with someone else. You never needed that connection.

Bucky on the other hand, subconsciously craved it. His past intermingling with his present left him uncertain about the kind of person he was, and he hated it. All he knew was that you were the only long-standing human contact he’d had in a long time.

He wasn’t deluded by any means. He knew you were tough as nails, a survivor, and you’d done it all by the grit of your teeth. He admired that. But the gaps missing from his own identity made him want to discover more about you. Make you real. He was having a hard time keeping things grounded in reality lately. And so, he asked questions. A lot of them.

“Where were you, before Romania?”

You sighed. An sort of unspoken agreement had been wordlessly put together by the two of you after you had discovered his true identity. You’d humor each other’s line of questioning until you’d reached your limit. Neither of you knew it at the time, but being controlled by HYDRA was a common experience you both shared. There were certain things you’d been through that neither of you felt compelled to share with anybody; things you were not ready to face up to yet. But for your part, you knew by now that the only way he would talk was if you opened up first, whether you liked it or not.

“Bulgaria,” you left a significant measure of silence before you continued. “Before that Kosovo, Hungary and Austria.” You figured there was no inherent harm in telling him where you’d been. It wasn’t like he’d know who your contacts there were, and you’d left those places as anonymously as ever.  
  
“Were you… doing this over there?” He gestured at your hands, currently putting together grenade components. You gave him an exasperated look. He got the gist; the subject of your activities around the continent were not up for discussion. He tackled a different, yet related topic.

“You don’t get tired of it? The running, looking over your shoulder…?”

You shrugged, your attention back on the grenades’ wiring. “Don’t you?”

He ignored your question. “You strike me as the kind of person who gets tired of things easily.” There wasn’t exactly malice in his eyes, but he was definitely trying to get a reaction out of you.

You gave him a scowl, which seemed to amuse him for a nanosecond, before returning to his usual sober look. You felt a furious urge to make it clear that the concept of using people and discarding them like yesterday’s stale toast hadn’t been your idea to begin with, but you didn’t bother to reply. 

You had to give it to him, he had figured out that the best way to keep you from asking him too many questions was to turn them around on you, and you were less than pleased about it. Giving him any more emotional ammunition against you wouldn’t do you any good in the long run. So you took a leaf out of his own book, and kept quiet. He hid a smirk as he stood up, walking towards the kitchen. You’d reached your limit for questioning today, he gathered. He’d probably get a rest from your inquisition as well.

But then his expression suddenly changed, his memory now latching on to something you had said before…

“You were in DC,” he said abruptly, turning towards you. You swallowed the slight gasp rising in your throat, and tried your best to keep your face expressionless. It wasn’t a question. And you weren’t about to elaborate.

“Y/N,” he said, moving quickly towards you and down to a crouch in front of you, grabbing your shoulders, eyes fixed on yours. “The Potomac. You said someone ended up in it. Who?”

You started shaking your head, feigning ignorance. This was not something you were prepared to share with him… and you knew he was not ready for it either. “I don’t–”

“Y/N, please,” there was a strange desperation crawling around his irises, confusing the hell out of you. _Was this one of his plays?_ “Were you in DC a year ago?”

_Stop it._

“Where you there when SHIELD fell?”

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._

“Tell me!”

“Yes, alright?!” you shouted back in his face. His eyes were wide, both of you struggling to breathe. “I was there.” you whispered this time, barely audible.

***

His mind reeled; he was wading through memory gaps, missing time, and half-forgotten words.

_The man on the bridge… who is he?_

He winced, turning abruptly away from you, as though he’d been struck across the face. His hand flew to his cheek, the ghostly pain lingering… but nothing had touched him. Or had it?

“Bucky?” your voice was trying to break through the cacophony in his mind, but it still sounded so far away…

_Your work has been a gift to mankind._

Another wave of pain crashed against his nerve endings, overwhelming him. He fell back on the floor finally letting go of you.

“Bucky!” you sprang towards him, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the head-bursting agony. “Bucky, talk to me, tell me what’s happening!”

_Wipe him._

***

He suddenly convulsed, eyes flying open, and pushing you away, he rushed towards the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl.

Your breath seemed to be caught in your throat, still on the floor, unable to move as you saw his back heaving with every wave of nausea.

You stayed on your spot until Bucky took one last shuddering breath, slowly turning around and leaning against the toilet, right across from you. He was sweating through his shirt, wet hair dripping down his face, blue eyes bloodshot, face ghost pale.

You both sat there, looking at each other for about a minute. You opened your mouth to speak up a couple of times, but you had no idea what to say. Sorry? For what? For not telling him about something that clearly was going to fuck with his mind like this?

“Bucky..?” you finally said. He was breathing heavily, his hair curtained over his face, but he fixed his eyes on yours. “Talk to me.”

He swallowed hard. “That man,” he said hoarsely. “The one you said that drowned…” A darkness clouded your features at the thought of Pierce. Your change in demeanor didn’t escape him. “What did he do to you?”

Your breathing picked up, heart thumping faster than ever. “Why?”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, thinking about the repercussions his next words might yield. “Tell me what he did to you,” his voice was low, eyes unblinking. “And I’ll tell you what he did to me.”

***

It was dark by now, your grenades forgotten on the floor. Bucky sat up on the mattress, his back against the wall, wrapped in the comforter you’d been using as a makeshift nest on the floor. His sweaty clothes were drying in the bathroom, and he’d found somewhat clean sweatpants in one of the drawers. You sat on the opposite edge of the bed, legs crossed.

You’d been talking for hours. How you’d been caught by Pierce, lied to, and forced to build HYDRA’s weapon of mass destruction. How he had manipulated you to the point where you trusted no one. How now Rumlow was apparently after you for the remnants of Pierce’s legacy.

Bucky told you about the chair. How Pierce used him to carry out HYDRA’s attacks on SHIELD, on Fury, on Captain America. How they’d wiped his memory whenever there was a hint of the old Bucky seeping through the Soldier. How his thoughts were warped, his struggle to find himself again.

“Is that why you carry that around with you?” You gestured towards the book, now sticking out of his sweatpants’ bulging pocket. The way his hand instinctively gripped the binding didn’t escape you.

“I put in what I remember… so I don’t forget. So I know what’s real…”

_Real_.

You had always held on to information as your own anchor to reality. It was information you could control, outside of who you really were. You didn’t quite like facing who you had become after the events in DC. You’d been subjected to others using you as a means for their own survival, you had only picked up the mantle; operating under the delusion that if you made your own rules you were freer than you’d even been. Was that even true anymore?

Bucky sensed you were struggling with some inner turmoil. “We don’t have to keep talking… if you don’t want to.”

You looked up at him. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn’t even tell when people were being genuine anymore; always opting for assuming the worst of people whenever you met them. 

You felt a lump rising in your throat, so you cleared it, shaking your head. “No, its… it’s fine.” You forced a smile on your face, but it came out more like a grimace. “Guess we both got our minds messed with.”

He nodded slowly, mirroring your expression. “Yeah.”

Barb warbled just then, interrupting the moment. You scrambled off the mattress and scanned her prompts. Another attack, this time in Algiers. You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply. You were running out of time.

“Everything ok?” you heard Bucky behind you. He’d left the comforter behind, and you found yourself averting your eyes from his bare chest and the scars from the fusion of metal and flesh on his arm, as he sat down next to you.

“Um…” you forced your eyes back to Barb’s screen and tried to steady your breathing. _This is NOT the time for that._ “For now, yeah.” you breathed. You could feel his eyes on you, but you stayed fixed on Barb, scanning Rumlow’s activities at the Algerian shipyard he’d blown up. “I really need to finish these.” You swiped up the secondary holo screen you’d outfitted Barb with, showing the grenade modifications you’d been working on earlier that day. “I’m on a deadline.”

You made it a point to turn your back on him as you reached to grab a half-finished enclosure, when he said the last thing you ever thought you’d hear that day.

“Can I help?”

***

He could tell you were retreating back into yourself, trying to shut him out once more. He’d finally gotten some insight into you and he wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. “I mean, I’m sure you’re way better than I am at this, but I’m a quick study.” You still didn’t quite look at him, but he pressed on. “Help you meet your deadline?”

He thought he saw the corner of your mouth turn up for a second. You blew up the schematic of a single grenade on the screen, and handed him a screwdriver. “Well, I’d hope you at least know how to use one of these.”

He sighed, taking the tool from your hands, and looking at it. “It’s a fork, right?” he said, mock confusion on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

***

After insisting he put on a shirt (under the pretense of safety; an excuse he thankfully accepted), you put him to work. He was right, he was a quick study, and seemed fascinated with your programming applications, more so than the actual manufacturing.

“You can’t exactly test these out, though, can you?,” he asked, as he assembled half an enclosure, and adding the electromagnetic mesh to the insides as you’d shown him.

“Never have to,” you said, not looking up from the latest version of the programming code you were inputting into Barb. “Barb scans everything for anomalies that don’t sync up to the programming. If a component is out of place or a wire’s not connected properly, she demos the effects, gives me a chance to fix it before delivery.” You looked over at him, his eyes wide. You gave him a smug smile. “I don’t do faulty tech.”

There was a moment of silence while the two of you kept working, until he handed you the piece he’d been assembling. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“I thought I had answered more than I thought I ever would, to be honest,” you replied without missing a beat, a slight edge on your voice.

“I mean…” he sighed. You thought you detected a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Never mind, forget it.” He got up and headed to the kitchen table, pouring himself a drink of water and slumping down on the chair.

_God, drama king over here_ , you rolled your eyes. “Sorry, that was… defense mechanism,” you mumbled. He gave you a look that clearly said that was the understatement of the year. You took a deep breath, relaxing your features. “Go ahead,” you prompted him.

“Why do you do it? Running for so long, on your own, I mean.” He was serious now. You had the slight suspicion that he was searching for something, but not necessarily about you. He’d been running for about as long as you had… but he had two lifetimes of demons to run from compared to you.

It was still a difficult question for you to answer. You had stopped being this introspective about your motives once you’d gotten out of the U.S. “Never really thought about it,” you said with a shrug. “More freedom than where I started, I guess. Clear skies above, stars guiding my way, you know?,” you finished lamely, avoiding his gaze.

His brow furrowed at that. “We used to look up at the stars… in the war.” You turned your head to look over at him. It was the first time he’s talked about the war after you’d found out his identity. “I remember… looking up. The sky was clear.” He seemed to be struggling to put words together with his memories, the dots he needed to connect fading in and out of sight. He grabbed his head with both hands, as if trying to squeeze out the missing pieces he desperately needed, but his arms dropped down in defeat as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t really get the chance to look up at them anymore,” he shrugged, now slouched over on the chair. His eyes were far away, and the devastating thought that he was trying to remember what the stars looked like crossed your mind.

It was the same look Steve had back when you met him. Displaced in time, desperate for an anchor before their suffering swallowed them whole. You related to that a little too strongly for comfort.

“Hand me that tablet,” you said, breaking the suffocating silence that was permeating the small darkened room; your hand outstretched to a pile of gadgets and scraps on the table. Bucky looked at you, complying with a steady, but curious, look on his face as he handed you the tablet and lowered himself down to a crouch next to you.

He watched as you opened up a program, tapping away and plugging the tablet into Barb’s array. “What are y–” but he was cut off as you swiped up and a holo-projection filled the room.

His mouth froze in a silent gasp as the entire night sky glowed and flickered all around the both of you. You watched with a small smile as he stood up and slowly walked among the artificial stars, taking in the constellations, dying, newborn and shooting stars, surrounding him in a celestial glow.

“It’s not exactly Hayden Planetarium,” you said quietly, as though not to break the spell of wonder he seemed to be under. “But it’s–”

“Incredible,” he cut you off. His eyes seemed even bluer in the projection’s light, a twinkle in them you hadn’t seen before. 

_That’s better._ Satisfied with his lightened mood, you laid down on your makeshift comforter nest, gazing up at the artificial sky above you. “Yeah,” you said, though mostly to yourself. “I guess it is quite a view.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely deviating off MCU canon here (I’m not really a fan of how the whole Ultron thing happened to begin with, so... yeah). Also some protective fluff (depends on how you see it? idk). And I just copy/paste including the gifs I had posted on Tumblr, because I did not realize I could do that here until now lol. Thanks for the kudos so far! --BJ

You weren’t sure when you dozed off, but the dawn light peeking through the newspaper-covered windows made you squint your eyes awake. Bleary-eyed, you raised yourself up on your elbows, feeling rather than seeing a presence next to you. Bucky was fast asleep, flat on his back, one arm behind his head, the other across his chest; deep heavy breaths making it rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

You didn’t mean to stare, but you were pretty sure this was the first good night’s sleep he had gotten in a long time. Apart from that one time you saw him doze off, he’d always be wide awake, vigilant, even when you stayed up late to monitor Barb’s security measures. You hadn’t questioned him about it, but you had the slight suspicion that sleep usually left him wide open for more incidents like the ones he was prone to having.

Not wanting to wake him, you quietly crawled towards Barb and muted all alerts until further notice, when you noticed that she had put together a brand new blueprint for a prototype repulsor blaster. Another one of your programming upgrades to her system: every part and material you had readily available was logged in her databanks. It was up to her to develop combinations for you to craft new tech out of them.

You’d acquired a couple of these old Stark repulsors from a shady port deal back when you’d first arrived in Bucharest, but you didn’t really have use for it… until now. Stark repulsor technology was rare in these parts; people were still trying (and failing) to replicate Iron Man prototypes on this side of the world. You’d have no problem landing a buyer for it if you managed to properly replicate Barb’s version. Of course a few personal upgrades would only help hike the price way up, and make it impossible to reverse-engineer by lesser minds.

You worked quietly until the Sunlight was brightly shining through the windows. Glancing over at Bucky you saw he was still dead asleep. You were just thinking about how you should try and rouse him up for breakfast, when you became distracted in you work at hand. Without warning, the repulsor activated and flew out of your hands with a blast, bouncing off the wall and headed straight back towards your head. Before you could even duck, you felt yourself get dragged backwards onto the floor, sliding under Bucky’s hulking frame, as he extended his metallic arm and caught the repulsor with his hand, crushing it in pieces. 

“FUCK!” you yelled out, mostly out of surprise… but partly because the thruster you’d been working on all morning was now totaled. 

“What the hell was that?” he was panting, inches away from you, his eyes wide and scanning everything around him.

“Relax, relax, it’s – it was just a thruster, it’s fine…,” but he wasn’t listening.

“Bucky, look at me,” your voice a little louder, a little stronger, but steady and as soothing as you could make it. He turned his face towards yours, his eyes frantic; a hint of the Soldier still peeking through. You gulped, but continued, trying to ignore the fear building up at your throat. “Take a breath, come on. Breathe with me,” you inhaled, never breaking eye contact, as he hovered over you, his arms on either side of you and taking your lead. 

“That was my fault, ok? I’m sorry,” you whispered. His eyes softened, the blue overtaking the darkness in them. You didn’t even think about it, but somehow your hands ended up on his chest as he kept his breathing level with yours. He didn’t flinch at the touch and you weren’t pulling away. It was difficult enough for you to keep your own breathing steady, that you didn’t notice how his heart beat a bit too rapidly at your touch. 

Time was nonexistent; you didn’t know how long you had both laid there, until he finally closed his eyes with one last exhale and pushed himself off of you. You however, seemed to have lost all sense of movement. 

_What the hell is happening?_ , you thought to yourself as you lay on the floor. 

Whenever Bucky got too far away from himself, you’d help him level out as best you could. Just like he felt that instinct to protect you and keep you safe, you had developed the need to steady him when he couldn’t hold up on his own. Maybe it came from not having anyone to depend on yourself all this time, or maybe Steve Rogers’ virtuous influence hadn’t truly left you like you thought. But you couldn’t deny that this time it felt different somehow. _Intimate_. The word sent shivers down your spine as you finally found the strength to sit up.

He was cross-legged now, his back to you, the broken thruster pieces in his hand. A slight flush appeared on his cheeks as he realized it probably was something you’d been working on for awhile. _Broken_. The single word made his face darken, ashamed at the comparison he made for himself. 

He extended his arm, handing the pieces back, but not looking at you. “Sorry.”

He sounded so miserable, so uneven… you felt nothing but a strong desire to just comfort him, tell him that it wasn’t his fault…

_Where the hell did that come from?_

You took the crushed thruster from his hand, your fingertips brushing the metal of his hand. You thought you saw him shift a bit, and briefly wondered if he had the same sense of feeling with it as with his flesh limb. Your fingers lingered on his, until he slowly moved it away. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled. 

A tense silence followed, until Barb’s screens deployed on their own; alerts popping up all over. Barb was primarily programmed for productivity and intelligence monitoring, but as you upgraded her, she kept learning, getting smarter, predicting your workflow. You had muted her when you’d woken up, so she deduced the best way to get your attention was to deploy flashing holo screens with what she needed you to know. And the chaos she was displaying definitely was something you needed to be aware of.

You quickly unmuted Barb, and a cacophony of news reporters and emergency alerts blasted around the room. Bucky covered his ears with his hands at the overwhelming blast of noise, while you re-focused the sound to a single Bloomberg news reel, muting all others. 

“What the hell…” you heard Bucky mutter, as he moved closer towards you.

_“Reports at the moment state that Ultron has take control of the country of Sokovia, and the Avengers are leading a counter-attack, not sanctioned by any governing power…”_

“Ultron? What’s Ultron?” Bucky asked, confused.

“Let’s find out,” you said, already tracking search terms and relevant anomalies within your intelligence network. A few seconds later, and an image of Tony Stark showed up on screen. 

**  
**Rogue A.I. created by Anthony Stark goes on Worldwide Rampage  
_The Hulk contained after wreckage in South Africa_

_  
_ “What the f–” 

“I know that name,” Bucky said, his brow wrinkled in an effort to remember. You looked at him warily, worried he was about to have another incident like yesterday’s, but he was keeping his breathing even, seemingly adopting your method of keeping the madness at bay. “Howard Stark was a scientist… he made flying cars…?”

You scoffed, “This is his son, Tony. And he made a flying suit,” you played an old archive of Iron Man flying into Stark Expo 2010. “Same overblown ego, though.”

“Whoa…”

“I knew that A.I. of his was going to bite him in the ass one day.” You shook your head, as you continued scanning the reports. “Giving an artificial entity too much independence opens you up to way too many vulnerabilities, you can’t control all the variables, and they’re easily exploited–”

“Wait, he made those things?” Bucky said, pointing at the metal robots flying around in the news reels. 

“No… but the program they’re running on is definitely his. Or at least, it _was_.” On a hunch, you mapped a trajectory for Ultron’s latest activity before Sokovia. Barb matched it to multiple Crossbones’ operations, discovering a pattern almost instantly. _Bingo_. “Rumlow’s framing him…”

He was planning to take out every one of the Avengers, and use their own weaknesses against him. It’s what you would do… if you were a HYDRA terrorist, that is. You wanted nothing more than to keep as much distance between you and the Avengers right now, but they were quite literally across the border.

“… and getting closer,” you hissed under your breath.

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked, not capable of tearing his eyes away, as camera drones showed Captain America ushering refugees onto a helicarrier.

“It means we better get these grenades done tonight,” you sighed gravely. 

  
***

Your sense of urgency didn’t escape Bucky in the slightest. You stepped up your pace in assembling and modifying the coding program for the grenade’s functions, that he found it hard to keep up with you. If you managed to hand these off tonight, you might be able to leave as early as tomorrow morning; finally put significant distance between you and HYDRA, SHIELD, and the Avengers. The longer you stayed, the more vulnerable you were… _in more ways than one,_ you thought, glancing at Bucky from out the the corner of your eye.

Finally, when the last grenade had been tested by Barb to your satisfaction, you packaged all of them carefully in a cotton-lined box inside a spare duffel bag Bucky had given you. **  
**

“So where are we going to drop those off?” Bucky said.

You looked at him, perplexed. “We?”

His brow furrowed, he fixed you with his steely gaze. “We.”

You shook your head, as you typed an encrypted message to Cyrus, telling him you were ready to deliver. “There’s no way you’re coming with me on this one, Bucky.”

“And you’re nuts if you think you’re meeting these guys out there on your own, Y/N,” he matched your tone, but there was a definite edge when he said your name.  
  
You inhaled, subconsciously adopting his habit of pinching the bridge of his nose. _Take it easy, don’t freak out on him._ You stood up and walked towards him, fixing him with a solemness that slightly disarmed him. 

“I can’t risk Cyrus or Mihai finding out about you,” you looked him square in the eyes. He frowned. _Were you genuinely worried about him?_ “For now they still think I’m on my own, I’d like to keep it that way. You’ll have less problems later on, when I’m–” you stopped yourself, unable to finish phrasing the inevitable for some reason.

“Gone,” he finished for you. _Why couldn’t you look him in the eyes anymore?_

You gratefully turned back to the sound of Cyrus’ reply; anything to avoid whatever uncomfortable conversation would result from this. Neither of you had talked about what would happen once your so-called partnership dissolved. That was the whole point: you disappeared, Bucky got his life back, and you’d never see each other again… right?

Cyrus’ message was unusual; he was currently overseeing operations in Sector 4 and would not be at the meeting. Mihai wanted to complete the exchange in person, at one of his casinos in Sector 3.

You decided a few extra precautions on your person wouldn’t hurt in this case. A stun gun, utilizing the same tech as your grenades, secured by your ankle; a retractable baton on the inside pocket of your jacket. You were about to turn towards the door, but Bucky was blocking your way. 

You immediately opened your mouth to protest, but he just held out a knife, handle towards you, staring deep in your eyes. “Just in case.”

  
***

_This is bad._

You had made it a point to not get attached to anything or anyone who wasn’t useful to your aims for a year. But every day that passed made it harder and harder not to care when it came to Bucky.

_This is very bad._

It just made you even more determined to be done with Mihai, leave once and for all. Away from the mob, away from Rumlow… and away from him. The way Bucky’s blue eyes brightened at your fake planetarium last night crossed your mind for an instant, making you shake your head in disbelief. 

_Stop it. Focus._

You waited for the signal from one of Mihai’s goons as you emerged from Titan Station, at the edge of Sector 3, before crossing the street towards the casino. He nodded you in through the side door into the kitchens, where another one of his tacky-suited agents took over and led you towards a private room closing the door behind you.

There sat Mihai, tailored blue suit, hair slicked back, phone to his ear speaking rapidly in Romanian. You didn’t miss the security cameras all around the circular room; a reminder to anyone who met with him that he was never truly alone.

“Nu. _(No.)_ Mâine. _(Tomorrow.)_ Spune-i treizeci și cinci. _(Tell him 35.)_ Bun. _(Good.)_ ”

He hung up, putting the cell phone on the table where he sat, and motioned to the empty chair across from him. “Please,” he said.

“To what do I owe the red carpet treatment, Mihai?” you said, taking your seat and placing the bag of grenades on the table. “I think I already told you I’m not interested in joining your band.”

“And we understand each other, Y/N.” he said, opening the bag. “That is why I hope you understand my current predicament.”

“Which is?”

“Cyrus.” he held one of the grenades in his hand, turning it over every which way as he spoke.

You couldn’t help raise an eyebrow. This was not where you thought this conversation was going to go. “What about him?”

“A toast first.” He snapped his fingers loudly and almost instantly a girl in a maitre‘d uniform entered the room, presenting him with an unopened bottle of imported champagne. After an approving nod from Mihai, the girl uncorked the bottle and poured out two flutes, swiftly retiring from the room. “Thanks to you, I am on track to controlling all surrounding boroughs in Bucharest. Noroc _(Cheers),_ ” he raised his glass and took a sip, his narrowed eyes on yours, awaiting for you to follow his lead. 

You, however, downed the liquid in one gulp. You didn’t have time for his stupid games.

“You’re welcome,” you said, putting the flute back down on the table with a little more force than you meant to. “So where’s my money?”

Mihai chuckled. “All business, as usual, Y/N.” 

“Don’t really have time for anything else. As you very well know.”

“That is why I asked to see you.” He poured himself another glass. “In my recent… acquisitions, there is potential for great business opportunities. But there is one piece of land that eludes me. A certain low-level pub. I believe you know the owner?”

_SHIT._

Mihai took another drink, calculating your face, as you struggled to keep the sudden rage bubbling up throughout your body buried as deep as you could. “I’m sure you understand my… situation.”

“Leave him out of this.” _God, this vicious cycle never fucking ends._

“Oh no harm will come to him. Or his business…”

You knew where this was going already. “If…?” you said through gritted teeth.

He sighed theatrically. “That brings me back to Cyrus.” He shook his head in disappointment. “He has become… somewhat of a nuisance. An obsolete one, if you will. See, I have no use for a middle man, if I already know where his information is coming from,” he nodded at you.

“We already had this conversation, Mihai,” you said, a hint of exasperation on your voice by now. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Bottom line is, I’m running a much larger network now, I need to keep track of my… investments. Inspire loyalty among my lieutenants, make sure they are on my team, that sort of thing,” a dark glint in his eyes just about made you shiver. “I know you have some good tracking tech of your own for awhile, Cyrus has let slip as much.” _That fucking weasel._ “It’s how you maintain that elusive nature of yours, no?” he finished with a sinister smile.

You knew you needed to measure your words extremely carefully. He was after the algorithm tech; tech that you’d made it your personal mission for the better part of a year to not share with anybody, lest it fell in the wrong hands. And here was the guy you’d refused to do business with in the first place, blackmailing you into developing it for him. _Deja fucking Vu_.

“You don’t believe I’ve done enough for you, Mihai?” you said, playing the indignant card.  
  
He shook his head, “No, Draga Mea _(My Sweet)_ , that’s not it at all. It’s _because_ you’ve done so much for me that I know I can trust you with this particular task. And you will be greatly compensated for it, believe m–”

“How much?” You interjected. He smiled broadly and slid a piece of paper across the table.  
  
_HOLY SHIT._

It was more than enough to help you vanish, upgrade Barb to the nines, and set up shop somewhere away from HYDRA and the Avengers’ reach. You’d even have enough to give to Bucky so he could live comfortably for awhile…

“Of course,” Mihai interrupted the rushing thoughts of endless possibilities running through your head. “You’ll get the full amount after delivery, can’t have you running off on me, now can I?” 

All hopeful thoughts in your mind fizzled out, like a candle snuffed out by the wind. _No_. 

“If you agree, I’ll combine today’s payday with… 35%? That should be enough to get you started, yes? And I’ll send someone to tell your friend Vlad, he’ll be glad to know you’re well and employed again.” His menacing intentions weren’t lost on you.

_This is really, REALLY bad._

“So you’re saying I can’t leave Romania, is that right?” You tried to keep the slight tremor in your voice down, but it was too late to back down. He had you pinned down, and you couldn’t do anything about it. _Again_.

“I can recognize that technology is way of the future, Y/N. You’ve taught me that,” Mihai filled up both his glass and yours this time. “So it’s a very simple request: give me something that can replace you, and you’re free to go.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the sads in this one. And no time for gifs this time, sorry :( --BJ

“Mother. Fucker,” you huffed, as you took the stairs two at a time on your way back up to Bucky’s. Mihai would have known better than to do this to you a week ago, but now it was impossible for him not to take advantage of your desperation. You knew it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d tag you after the events in Sokovia. An all knowing A.I. like Ultron capable of gathering information from all around the world? Who else had access to Stark tech in Europe other than you? You’d gotten cocky again… and you hated yourself for it.

You knew Vlad would tell you not to worry about him, but Mihai was not only cornering you by holding your best safehouse hostage, he was attacking your pride. You were the one who’d saved Vlad’s business in the first place, you’d be damned if that was all for nothing. And like it or not, Vlad had become a confidant. It was your loose end to tie up, not Mihai’s.

You had plenty of incriminating intel on him and his crew, but he was right: thanks to you, his agents were pretty much everywhere now. They’d hunt you down as soon as anything on them leaked. You already had HYDRA and the Avengers to worry about, you didn’t need the whole Romanian mob out for your neck, and you couldn’t do that to Bucky.

_Bucky._

You leaned against the wall outside the door, trying to calm yourself. This partnership was costing you too much already. And how were you going to explain that he’d have to play host for even longer than he signed up for? Especially with HYDRA practically right at his front door?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the murderous thoughts of what you’d do to Mihai if circumstances were even slightly in your favor.

Deciding you’d lingered outside long enough, you made your way inside, only to find Bucky sitting in front of Barb; footage of Captain America in New York visible from over his shoulder. He didn’t turn around when you entered.

“What are you doing?” you approached him slowly. When he didn’t react at your words you tried again. “Bucky…?”

“I knew him…” he said softly. “Steve…” He seemed to be in a sort of trance, speaking the words mostly to himself, trying to consolidate the images he was seeing with the ones missing from his memory. You crouched down slowly next to him. The newsreel of Steve evacuating civilians while fighting off Ultron was now looping on Barb’s second screen. “He looks different… older, but not…”

That alien desire to comfort him washed over you again, and this time it was stronger than your own detached will; placing your hand on his and squeezing it gently. He blinked, reacting to your touch. His eyes wandered down to your hand, startled at the contact, and traveled upward landing on your face. _Broken._

“You with me?” you asked him.

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say something, but not being able to word it properly. Finally after a long pause, he spoke up, “You know those puzzles, where you draw lines between dots to form a full picture?”

“Sure,” you replied, encouragingly.

He hesitated before continuing, ”That’s how my mind feels… all the time. I keep trying to draw the lines in, but I never get to the final picture… it’s all skewed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just kept quiet. He hadn’t elaborated this much about what was happening to him before, and you weren’t sure if you were able to help him with that now. You weren’t in any state to help anyone, anymore…

Bucky blinked in the midst your silence, seemingly coming back to the present. “How’d it go?” 

“Huh?” You on the other hand, were lost in thought.

“The exchange. How’d it go?”

You suddenly realized your hand was still on his; he had tightened his grip on you as he talked, and you hadn’t noticed until now. You immediately let go, standing up and turning away from him.

“Fine,” you said. “I, uh… it’ll still take me a few weeks to figure a safe route out, though.” You composed your face into your best jovial expression before turning back to face him. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little while longer, hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t know why you lied. Habit, you supposed. Maybe it was easier to lie and try to rebuild that wall around you that seemed to be crumbling down every time you were near him. Tonight’s meeting had left you feeling as pinned down as ever and you were desperately grasping at anything familiar to prop you up.

Bucky wasn’t stupid though. “What’s wrong?,” he stood up from the floor, fixing you with that knowing look of his, and you had to dig deep, drawing from the deepest, darkest part of your instincts before you ended up blabbing and telling him everything. _TRUST IS BULLSHIT._

“Nothing. You mind if I shower? Long day.” You grabbed your own duffel bag from a corner of the room. “You know how to set up the perimeter scans, right?” And with that, you slammed the door behind you, leaving Bucky frozen in place, replaying the last few minutes in his head, and trying to make sense of it all.

***

“Did you ever meet him?”

“Hmm?” you were distracted with a protocol for the bastardized version of Barb you were tasked with. You were simplifying this version significantly for Mihai (there was no way you were giving him all of your brand new updates), but trying to replicate an A.I. protocol with limited functions was giving you trouble, and you were in the middle of breaking apart a complicated command query, when Bucky’s inquisitive voice broke your concentration.

“Steve. In D.C. Didn’t you work for SHIELD?”

You were back to your old Twenty Questions game. Where there used to be a normal, comfortable silence while you worked away on Barb and Bucky wrote on his notebook, there now was a tense aura filling the room. He needed to fill the void with something, anything, to prevent himself from descending down the dark hole of his mind. 

“I worked at SHIELD,” you said, a hint of frustration on your voice. “So did a thousand other people.”

“Pretty sure you knew a lot more than any of them ever did.”

“Pretty sure I’d know if I ever met Captain America in person,” you said, eyes firmly set on Barb, refusing to look at him. More lies. You’d started just blurting them out since last night, one after the other. It was getting easier, reverting back to the old you. Or so you thought.

You were dead set on finishing your work as fast as you could; lingering here with Bucky firing questions all day was bound to make you snap. You’d already talked too much, cared too much, and it hadn’t done you any favors; you were right back where you started. Being pressured into talking to Bucky about his best friend from childhood in an attempt to help him reconcile with his own past was not your responsibility. Stick to the plan.

“That’s not an answer,” you heard him say, his voice low.

Your focus was gone, and so was your patience. “What do you want me to say?” you threw your hands up in frustration, finally looking him square in the eyes. “I was just a tool for HYDRA, just like you, they didn’t give me much time to socialize.”

You were slipping through his fingers again, taking away the temporary stability you gave him when he needed it most, shutting him out. Something had changed since last night, and the more he pushed, the further you pulled away from him. Is that what he had to get used to now? Back to the cold, harsh loneliness he carried with him before you appeared into his life?

His entire expression changed, right down to his stance. He had stood up a little straighter, eyes shone a little brighter in the past few days. But now you saw him return to the lost, trapped man you met back at his safehouse. You were doing this to him, you knew it. But there wasn’t anything you could do about it. _It’s for the best_ , you tried to convince yourself.

_For him, or for you?_

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands. This whole Mihai mess wasn’t on him, it was your own to deal with. There was no reason you couldn’t be civil with each other, at least until you left…

You uncovered your face, but you didn’t expect to see Bucky’s face right in front of you. “Jesus christ!” you hissed, startled.

“I don’t know why I care so much,” he said, ignoring your reaction. “By all accounts or purposes, I shouldn’t. But I do.”

“I know,” you said, finally defeated. Taking a deep breath you braced yourself at the risk of drowning in his eyes when meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t push further. But you didn’t need to. You both knew this was the beginning of the end. The first good-bye.

***

“You hungry?” you called out at him. 

“There’s not much left in the fridge,” Bucky called back from behind the half-closed bathroom door.

You opened the refrigerator door and inspected its contents. “There’s bread… and bread,” you straightened up slightly as you spoke, and spied him through the door. Shirtless, his broad, scarred, muscular back facing you, momentarily distracting you, until you saw him reach up towards a roof tile and hide something. You quickly stuck your head back into the fridge before he could catch you peeking. _So that’s where you’re hiding it._

You had finished the first prototype for Mihai at long last, after making peace with Bucky days earlier. The comfortable silence was back, but a sort of sad tension lingered, as you both kept to yourselves and barely engaged in conversation anymore. Bucky might have been searching for a human connection, but your curiosity had always been reserved for secrets… and you knew he had plenty of them in that book.

You were about to leave, you had to know if there was anything in there about you. You couldn’t leave that up to chance… and if you happened to find anything else he hadn’t felt inclined to share with you, it couldn’t hurt either.

You heard him approach and closed the fridge door, only to find yourself trying your hardest not to stare at his bare chest as he pulled on a cleaner shirt, trying to ignore the sudden rising temoerature in the room. _At least I can avoid that once I’m gone._ You forced your gaze on his face instead. “Bread?”

He sighed. “I guess I can make a run to the market for something.”

_Awesome._ “Want me to come with?” you offered, hoping against hope that he’d refuse.

“Nah, it’s fine. Keep a lookout.” He grabbed his jacket and pulled his cap low over his eyes as he headed to the door.

“Aye aye, Sarge,” you mock saluted him. He fixed you with an exasperated look before closing the door behind him.

You peeked out the kitchen window until you saw his shadow disappear around the corner of the building, and then made a mad dash into the bathroom.

You knew you shouldn’t be doing it, knew against all rational thought that it was pointless. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your escape, what good would it even do to read the half-memories he said he put in there? But that need to know… it was embedded in your bones. He was barely talking to you, and even though you knew it was your doing, you just couldn’t help yourself.

You climbed onto the sink and lifted up the ceiling tile you’d seen him move earlier, but there was nothing. You frowned, waving your hand back and forth inside the opening, but only got a few cobwebs and dust.

“Ahem.”

With a yelp, you lost your balance. You twisted yourself in an effort to prevent a head injury against the wall and ended up falling bottom-first onto the toilet. “Ow.”

Bucky stood leaning against the doorframe, struggling to keep his face expressionless, a slight smirk on his face at your predicament.

“Looking for this?” He waved the journal, and you sighed, getting to your feet and wiping your cobweb-filled hands on your pants. You were about to speak, but he cut you off, all hint of amusement gone from his eyes, stepping closer to you. “Why are you so interested in what’s in here?”

You’ve never been one to enjoy being cornered. You couldn’t help yourself at this point. “I was just trying to fix that tile, I don’t know if you noticed but it’s broken.”

Without warning he pulled you out into the room, and the roughness made you instinctively guarded. His face was measured, trying to control himself, but you could see that unmistakable hint of the assassin peeking through his eyes again. _Better._ Anger was familiar, this was easier to deal with.

“What are you hoping to find?” he said coolly, as you slowly backed away from him, already measuring your available escape routes as he spoke. “Huh? Because I don’t even know what’s in here half the time.”

“That seems like an even better reason to tell me what’s in there, don’t you think?” you shot back at him.

“Why?” His eyes flashed. “You gonna turn around and share with your mob friends, is that it?” He kept walking towards you, and you had to stifle a gasp when your back bumped against the table. “This isn’t for anybody else but me, you got that?” You were face to face now, both of you breathing heavily; him struggling to hold back his rage, you high on adrenaline at the prospect of a fight.

It didn’t take long before you snapped. “There better not be anything about me in there, I’ve given you plenty of chances to just tell me–“

“Oh please, we both know you’ve been trying to play me from the start,” he cut you off with a scowl. “By the way, you’re terrible at it.”

“You should know pal, you’ve been doing the exact same thing to me!”

“I’m sure you’ve gotten enough out of me by now, why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“You wouldn’t make it across the street without me, and you know it,” you spat.

“I was doing just fine until you came along!” his voice rising for the first time since you met him.

Neither of you moved for a solid minute. Heavy breaths and blazing eyes, and… sorrow.

Finally, taking a shaky breath, you broke the silence. “I think I’ve probably overstayed my welcome.” Slipping away from him, you started for your things.

He scoffed. “Oh, and what are you going to do, just magically hack yourself an invisible place to stay? You said yourself it would take you weeks to figure out how–“

“Well I lied, I’m just a big liar. You happy?” His eyes never left yours. That guilt… you thought you’d left it behind in DC, but it only magnified tenfold, standing in front of him. You knew it was just a matter of time before this happened. Time to move on. 

You measured your words carefully as you spoke, “I’m gonna go get something done and I’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

“Y/N…”

"It’s just a drop off; I’ll be back before you know it,” you paused stuffing the spare parts for Mihai in your bag as you glanced at him. Even now, at the end, you felt the need to reassure him. This was not part of the plan, this… co-dependency, this need to connect. How the hell could you let it get this far?

He stood in the middle of the room, much like the first time he’d brought you here, teetering on the edge of a decision. Make you stay, or let you go. Once again, he was unsure what the right choice was. And now he wasn’t sure that he’d made the right decision the first time around anymore.

You shut your eyes again, turning back to your things; looking at him just made things even harder. You grabbed a second bag from the floor, dropping it on the table in front of him. “These are yours,” you said, as you swept past him and left, closing the door behind you.

He stared at the bag, the zipper still half open. He reached in and pulled out a round silver grenade. 

Just like you’d taught him, he managed to open up Barb’s device scanner, instantly deploying a demo for the sphere. You’d created a magnetic enclosure that would stick to any solid surface when activated, destroying structural integrity and capable of bringing down 20 tons of rubble. There were about 7 others in the bag, along with instructions on how to make more. It seemed like an eternity ago when he’d asked you about them.

He let Barb’s demo loop a few more times, his head hung low, hand gripping the orb, as the evening light faded outside.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Scenes of violence, gunfire, cursing, blood (here's where it starts getting dark-ish). --BJ

You had an internal battle with yourself the entire way to Mihai’s hideout. One side of your brain, a compassionate side you rarely used, was crumbling under the guilt of leaving things unresolved and utterly broken between you and Bucky. He’d protected you, shown you how to defend yourself, given you shelter when you needed it… and you’d thrown it all away in an instant. The other side, morally ambiguous and focused on survival, was congratulating you for doing it so effortlessly.

The situation with Bucky wasn’t like Vlad’s, whose kindness towards you was dependent on you saving his livelihood to begin with: this was completely different. You’d always kept your focus on information, technology, evolution… things you could exchange for a leg up in a dark underworld. Relationships were never a part of the equation, especially not after New York. Whatever had been growing between you and Bucky wasn’t anything you’d experienced before.

_Because you never gave yourself the chance to._

You shook your head, battling with your own self. Getting close to anyone was a mistake, you always ended up on the wrong end of things. If anything, you were doing Bucky a favor by cutting yourself off like this. Past experience was evidence enough that anyone remotely close to you ended up with even worse luck than you ever did. Not a day went by that you weren’t haunted by Gunther’s twitching form, or the way his life was snuffed before your eyes.

So how come you couldn’t help but wince at the image of Bucky, mournful and destroyed back at the apartment?

_Because you care about him._

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, attracting a few odd looks on the bus you were in. You shrank even deeper into yourself, lowering the hood of your jacket and crossing your arms tightly around you. You refused to entertain that thought any longer, but as much as you tried, it kept stubbornly creeping up to the forefront of your mind.

Mihai had replied to your message with a brand new location as a meeting place; he’d secured a new property block, not too far from Bucky’s. You’d already doubled back a few times and monitored your security feeds to make sure you couldn’t be traced back. 

You approached the white and blue-trimmed building and leaned back against a corner, waiting for the unmistakable guard at the side door to signal you over, but instead he directed you past the alley next to him. You frowned. Mihai usually preferred his meetings private and indoors, expensive spirits included.

If you hadn’t been so distracted with your own inner turmoil, you probably would have turned tail and ran.

You walked down the alleyway, past the back of the building, where a second guard motioned for you to go towards a warehouse entrance further up, but then he slinked away, leaving you standing in front of the open gate, alone. The skin on the back of your neck prickled up, but before you could even think about how wrong this all felt, a shadow emerged out of the darkness of the warehouse, and your eyes narrowed at the unexpected figure now standing in front of you.

“Y/N,” Cyrus lit a cigarette as he walked towards you, enveloped in smoke. “I hear you got something exciting in the works.”

Mihai had specifically kept Cyrus out of your previous conversation, he was determined on phasing him out of his operations. So unless he wanted to risk never getting his hands on your tech, Cyrus had played you. And the fact that you didn’t see it coming was weighing heavily on you at the moment.

“Must have heard wrong,” you said, trying to gauge just how much he knew.

“Why else would you come down here, then?” He took a long drag, glinting eyes on you.

“I should be asking you that,” you kept true to your short answers, hoping to stall and figure out what his play was. “You brought me here, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer, just kept sucking on that cigarette, giving you a strong urge to push it past his lips and make him swallow it.

You sensed it rather than saw it; big broad arms tried to grab you from behind, and you rolled expertly away, landing in a crouch a few feet away. At least Bucky’s training had served you for something.

“What the hell is this?” you said, glancing at the huge guy in your periphery; he was still blinking in slight confusion after your swift escape.

“Impressive,” Cyrus’ voice brought your attention back to him. “I see that guard dog of yours has taught you new tricks.”

“I told you, I work alone,” you said warily. How would he even know about Bucky?

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N,” he flicked the now dead cigarette away, as two more strong-built guys flanked him from within the warehouse. They didn’t look like Mihai’s usual thugs, who opted for flashy suits and expensive looking weapons. These guys dressed all in black, with hints of worn-down tactical gear, packed holsters on their thighs.

You slowly straightened up, keeping all four of them in your eyeline, your hand slightly twitching at your side, ready to wield your stun gun if any of them got within reach.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he tilted his head, a look of pure disdain on his face. “How you went behind my back to fuck with me?”

“That’s not what happened, Cyrus,” you told him, your senses on high alert as your eyes darted from him to the guys now backing you up the alleyway. Waiting for an opening, you prepared to run for your life if you needed to. “Talk to Mihai, I’m sure you lovebirds can work it out.”

Cyrus hissed low at the taunt, but he and his two-man entourage stopped moving towards you. “It’s a little too late for that, Y/N.”

Two broad figures out of nowhere flanked you, each grabbing one of your arms, preventing you from making your escape. You struggled, but their vice-like grips were strong, keeping you in place.

Cyrus got close enough for you to smell his smoky ash-ridden breath. You hadn’t noticed until now, but he looked ragged; dressed in fancier garb, but still a bit worse for wear. He looked at you from heavy-lidded eyes, a greedy expression on his face as he snarled, “I already made a little deal of my own.”.

***

You fell on the hard concrete, palms skinned as you tried to stop yourself from face-planting. Before you could get your bearings, two hands pressed your arms down behind you and your cheek grinded on the ground, making you wince from the pain. You saw Cyrus’ feet at eye level before he crouched down beside you.

“I thought we had an understanding, Y/N. We don’t fuck with each other’s money.”

“You didn’t get the memo?” your voice was a little muffled as Cyrus’ muscle kept you pinned down on the ground, but your sarcasm came though just fine. “I got it loud and clear when you tried to screw me back at Vlad’s.”

“Is that what this was? Retribution?” he clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “So much for the lone ranger act, I expected better from you.”

You mustered up all your strength to push off your captors, a loud growl sounding from your throat, but they just lifted you up on your knees, still holding tight to your arms. The cold air stung the scratches on your face, but it only yielded to more rage building up inside you. Towards Cyrus, for whatever power play he was trying to pull on you now. Towards Mihai for getting you into this fucking deal in the first place. Towards yourself, for being blindsided so easily.

“So what?” you spat. “You’re gonna kill me? You don’t think your checks will stop cashing once Mihai figures out he’s never getting what he asked for?” You saw Cyrus’ smirk falter, only fueling your anger. “Good luck finding a new boss that works with backstabbing _messenger boys_.” You emphasized the last two words, knowing the dig would cut deep at Cyrus’ sense of self-importance. At this point you didn’t care what happened… which was a good thing.

“Shut up!” you heard him yell, before a sharp blow to the side of your head left you dazed. You let out a groan as you felt warm blood trickle down your left cheek.

“Not the face, douchebag,” you muttered, letting out a chuckle at your own expense. Why were you laughing? Probably at the fact that, out of everyone who was out for your hide, Cyrus was the one who would end up killing you. You were going to die in a dank alley at the hand of a jealous personal assistant, and at the moment, you found that hilarious. A joke. Your entire existence had been punchline after punchline, and this was a fitting end to all of it.

“Mihai’s a dying breed,” Cyrus walked, circling you as you tried to get your bearings back. “I’m giving him what he wants already. I’m out.” He crouched back down in front of you, facing you dead on. “And I’m taking everything he built along with me, and burning it to the ground.”  
  
“We got orders,” one of your wardens, the one on the right, spoke up. English. Liverpool, maybe. “Rollins wants her alive.”  
  
That made you twitch. Rumlow’s lieutenant, Rollins? _FUCK_.  
  
“Cyrus you dumbass, what the fuck did you do?!” you croaked out, as the two guys tried to keep you steady while you tried desperately to jerk out of their grasp.  
  
“I did what I had to!” Cyrus shot back, eyes blazing, and pointing a gun at you. You were breathing heavily now. If it came down to it, you’d rather he just shoot you now, rather than end up in HYDRA’s hands once again. If you taunted him just enough maybe he’d lose it and end it all right now.

“You fucking useless piece of shit,” you hissed at him. “You don’t think they’re going to fuck you over? Like they won’t kill you as soon as I turn the corner?!”  
  
You felt a bolt of electricity at the base of your spine; the other guy holding you, skinnier in build, had taken hold of your stunner and aimed it at your back, making you spasm and fall forward again. Your vision clouded, lights dancing in your eyes, as the voices of the men in the alley echoed around you.  
  
“Stay cool, man.”

“Put the gun down, you kill her and it’s over.”  
  
“Rollins wants a report now!”  
  
Your head was aching, your body surging with remnants of electricity, and you tried blinking away the blinding glare that was blurring everything around you. It took a couple of seconds until you noticed the glare was moving in a very specific and familiar repetitive pattern in front of you.  
  
_7 seconds. Go right._

You fought against the impulse to look upwards at the roof behind you, so you sighed, trying to support yourself with your hands, and closed your eyes, counting down as you breathed; the men around you distractedly fighting with Cyrus, paying less and less attention to you.  
  
_5_

The guy to your left was loosely holding your stun gun.  
  
_4_

The guy to your right had a knife on his right-leg holster.

_3_

Cyrus had probably never fired a gun before, judging from the way his hand was shaking.  
  
_2_

_I hope you know what you’re doing._

_1_

Yanking the stun gun from your left, you rolled expertly to your right, sticking it on the back of Liverpool’s knee. He buckled, allowing you to grab his knife, and you stabbed his shin with it. After his loud yell, you dashed towards the far right wall, backing up against it, just in time to see a large pile of rubble crash down right where you’d been just seconds ago, flattening your captors unconscious… and rising from the middle of it was Bucky, a menacing look on his face. Blocking incoming bullets with his metal arm, he rushed towards the other two guys that had flanked Cyrus, easily overtaking one of them.  
  
Wasting no time, you spied a gun, loose from its holster, on the ground in front of you. You lunged towards it, rolling on your back again and standing up to aim at Bucky’s second attacker. You heard the bang as you fired, but at the same time, you felt as though a bolt of lighting shot through you, making you crumple to the ground.

“Y/N!”

You tried turning towards Bucky’s voice, but what you thought was a sharp cramp on your right side only let you turn enough to see Cyrus backing away from you, lowering his smoking gun with eyes wide, before turning tail and running away.

“Oh no you don’t, you coward,” you snarled, and made to push yourself off the ground, to follow him. But that same piercing pain wouldn’t even let you breathe properly. _Should have stretched_ , you thought darkly.  
  
You looked down and saw a dark spot on your shirt. ”What the–” As your hand touched the growing stain, you winced.

At that moment Bucky skidded to a stop next to you. “Y/N, look at me.”

You looked up, those ice blue eyes you thought you’d never gaze upon again, a beacon of light in your now darkening vision.

“That motherfucker shot me,” you whispered out in shock, feeling warm hands catch your head before everything went black.  
  
***

“You gotta wake up, Y/N, come on,” something cold and hard was on your face. You winced; your body ached, and the right side of your torso felt like it was bursting out from your skin, an unbearable pressure trying to keep your insides from falling out. “Y/N?”  
  
You blinked a few times, Bucky’s face in front of you, propping you up against a wall and trying to keep you upright. “Bucky…” your throat felt dry, your legs like jelly.  
  
“We gotta move, ok?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice, his eyes darted every which way around you, not meeting yours directly. “But you have to help me, just hang on to me and stay awake.”  
  
Breathing was now as painful as standing. Your arms grasped his for support, but even that movement left made you groan. “I can’t…” _Can this just be the end?_

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “You’re tougher than anyone I know, Y/N, this is nothing.” You knew he was trying to be encouraging enough to get you moving, but all it did was annoy you.

“I don’t think getting shot at qualifies as ‘nothing’, _Sarge_.”

“There she is,” the amusement in his voice mingled in with his concern. “You got enough strength for sarcasm, you can make it a few more blocks. Just hold on to me, I got you.”

He held you upright, his left arm around you and under your right arm, and you gasped, drawing in a hissing breath as the skin on your wounded side stretched and contracted with every step you took.

It took every ounce of your will to stay conscious as the pain grew, your adrenaline from the battle with Cyrus fading away. You were gasping for air rather than breathing by the time Bucky dragged you up the stairs and inside the door. He leaned you against it, trying to help take your jacket off, but your knees buckled and you slid fast towards the ground. You just wanted to sleep…  
  
“Y/N!” large arms propped you upwards again, a warm breath caressing your face. “Y/N, come on, stay with me. Open your eyes.”  
  
Bucky’s voice was the anchor keeping your consciousness from drifting away. The more you focused on it, the more alert you became, the more panicked you got about your present situation, and the more aware you became that you had dragged him down along with you.

“Why did you come for me?,” you mumbled thickly, letting yourself be half-carried over to the mattress in the corner. “You should have just left me there.“ You were too weak to truly put up more of a fight as he tugged your shirt up; if his gentle hands on your skin was the last thing you ever felt, you didn’t want to miss a second of it.  
  
_Wow, I must really be delirious._  
  
“You kidding?” he said, slowly rolling up the shirt to reveal your gunshot wound. He hoped it just looked worse than it really was. “Imagine how boring my life would be.”  
  
He rushed towards the sink, filling up a bowl of water, grabbing the bottle Vlad had sent you, and a shirt that was slung over a chair before kneeling back down next to you.

You were shaking your head, “They know you’re helping me now… Rollins… Rumlow,” you recalled bits of conversation from the past hour or so, coming back to you in pieces that your conscious mind tried desperately to grasp to. “They’ll be looking for you, too.”

“Good reason to keep you alive, then” you saw him smirk as he shredded pieces of the shirt.

Your laugh quickly turned into a cough and another groan of pain.  
  
“Take it easy,” he shushed you gently, as he took another worrying look at your wound. “This is gonna hurt.”

***

**Day 1**

You were shivering, sweating out a constant fever. There were no meds other than some expired aspirin, and the Tuica bottle Vlad had sent you all those days ago. Bucky had already used a third of it to disinfect the wound, while you drank most of the rest as he sewed you up. You were most likely fighting off an infection; you’d kick off the blankets he’d put over you, tearing your stitches out with your movements, making you cry out and writhe in pain. He’d kill Cyrus if he ever saw him again.

There was a surgical clinic not too far from your location. He monitored the back doors through Barb’s feeds for someone, anyone he could try and bribe for supplies. But he couldn’t leave you alone. Not now. You needed help just keeping water down, and he did his best to hold you in place when you couldn’t control your shaking limbs. His metal hand found its way onto the wound at one point, covering it for any further damage you might inflict on yourself. A few minutes later, he heard you murmur “feels good,” your hand over his, holding it in place as you drifted back unconscious. Bucky lay down next to your sleeping form, and didn’t move until morning.  
  


**Day 2**

You’d stirred a few times, Bucky taking the opportunity to try and help you drink and eat anything he could scrounge up. 

“It hurts,” your small voice breaking his heart as he cleaned your wound again.

“I’m gonna get you something for the pain, ok? Just hang on.”

“Don’t leave me, Bucky…” you drifted off, your drowsiness getting the better of you again.

But he had to. He grabbed some of your “secret” funds, the ones you thought you’d so cleverly hidden from him, and came back in a flash with ointments, IV bags, suture kits and the works. The clinic porters working the night shift were generous, so long as the price was right. And Bucky had given them plenty.  
  
There was a scarring film-like substance he didn’t like oozing from your wound by now, and he tried his best to clean it before preparing a needle with anesthetic. “This’ll sting a bit, ok?”

You gasped at the sharp stab, grabbing his arm, and he quickly placed both his hands on your face. “I know, I know, it’s over, ok? I’m done,” he tried desperately to soothe you; just breathing was torturous for you, and he hated the pain you were in. But now it was his turn to level you out, to make you better. “You’ll get through this, stay with me.” Your eyes were squeezed shut the pain overwhelming you, but you nodded, leaning into his touch as he tried to gently lay you back down.

He’d done his share of field surgery in the war, dealing with worse and fresher wounds than yours. Thankfully the bullet had gone clean through, and it was just a matter of keeping you from bleeding out and preventing further infection. A part of his past coming back to him almost automatically, he worked quickly, replacing your torn stitches with fresh ones, bandaging you up, and setting up the IV drip to keep you hydrated. He finally took a deep breath when the pallor in your already sleeping face receded a bit. 

He absently stroked your hair, never leaving your side. “You’re ok now,” he kept murmuring, not fully registering he was mostly trying to reassure himself. You couldn’t hear him, after all.  
  


**Day 3**

“Bucky…?”

He jerked himself awake at the sound of your voice. “Wh–what is it, doll?”

“…water?” Your voice was hoarse. You’d probably just woken up, too.

“Sure, hang on…” He’d kept some nearby, so as not to leave your side any longer than necessary. He helped lift you up, leaning you against him as he handed you a cup.

You groaned at the movement, your skin tugging at your stitches. You lifted the cup to your lips, sighing as the cold relief making its way down your dry throat. “How’m I doing, Doc?”

“You’ll live,” a small smile on his lips, as he gently rubbed your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but lean further back against his chest. It was making you drowsy again, but the throbbing pain on your side made you groan again. “I’m gonna kill Cyrus,” you growled.  
  
“Yeah, not if I get to him first,” Bucky scowled. That bastard was going to pay for this one way or another.   
  
You sighed again, until you wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Is that me? I smell like garbage.”  
  
He laughed at that, his chest rumbling pleasantly at your back.  
  
“Well, you don’t smell that great either, y’know” you grumbled, but you hid your own smile from him. You’d made him laugh. It was a nice sound.

***

You couldn’t remember much after Bucky had brought you back to the apartment, except for blurs of blood-soaked clothes, stinging pain, and swirling darkness. But under Bucky’s care (and a hell of a lot of morphine), you started feeling like yourself again after five days. And, whether it was pure luck or something else, there was no sign that Cyrus or Rollins’ men had found out where you and Bucky were hiding.

“They want me alive,” you’d said, straining to sit upright as Bucky stuck a cushion between you and the wall. “Rollins is just the muscle, he’d have no idea how to work the prototype.” You sank against the cushion, wincing at the still tender scars on your body. “He’s probably busy chewing Cyrus out for shooting me.”  
  
“Good,” Bucky muttered, sitting down next to you and bringing Barb closer to you both. He’d taken over monitoring of the perimeter while you recovered, getting familiar with Barb’s intuitiveness and even adding some extra search parameters to keep track of any hostile activity nearby. She still hadn’t cleared Vlad’s pub as a safe haven, he’d spotted Rollins and his men hovering around the area a couple of nights ago. But the perimeter around your location had been clear so far. “We just gotta figure out what to do if they start closing in.”  
  
You pulled up a list of materials on the screen, eyes scanning quickly through Barb’s recommendations and predicted chain reactions.

“Get me all these,” you told Bucky, a determined look on your face. “It’s time we put up some safeguards.”

“Are those…?” He looked over a few demos on the screen.  
  
“Oh yeah,” you said, your mouth curled up at his awed expression. “If they even turn the corner, they’re going out with a bang.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is back (but so are the gifs) --BJ

You’d both been hard at work, mapping out the best strategic points to set up your most recent invention: repulsor blast explosives and electromagnetic energy traps, with the capacity to be armed remotely from just about anywhere. Barb had logged your last try at repulsor tech, back when Bucky had accidentally destroyed your last prototype, and figured out a way to combine it with your previous tech, as well as with some old SHIELD schematics they never got working properly. Apart from a few short circuits, and minor cuts and scrapes, you managed to successfully produce two repulsor grenades and three magnetic traps, the latter of which would keep hold of armed hostiles unless disabled. Even if they’d figure out that it initially targeted their weapons, the magnetic field would only get stronger, grabbing on to the person’s own clothing and gear the longer it was powered.

“I’m pretty sure Cyrus has gone off the grid by now,” you grumbled, the possibility of confronting him again and giving him proper hell fading from view. “But if Rollins and his crew try anything, this will keep them at bay for a while longer.”

“Should give us enough time to find somewhere else to hide out for awhile,” Bucky had said, stripping some wire ends for the detonators, but stopping as soon as he’d realized his own words. _Us._

You’d stayed quiet, and he didn’t look at you, an awkward silence that either of you could have broken, but didn’t have the strength to. There had been no talk of your argument before you’d stormed off straight into Cyrus’ ambush, the two of you going about as if nothing ever happened. You figured it was for the best; you certainly didn’t want to revisit the harsh words you’d spoken to each other, nor your embarrassing display while betraying his privacy.

But you were ignorant of the fact that Bucky himself had been so incredibly relieved that you had survived your encounter with HYDRA, so utterly glad he had the sense to follow you that night to intervene, that he hadn’t wanted to rock the boat by bringing up any unpleasantness between you. Somehow, caring for you, keeping your head over water, gave him a sense of purpose; finally a way he could distance himself from the demon that HYDRA had created. He wasn’t solely built to destroy, a mindless killing machine. He could heal. He healed you. And maybe, if you stuck around, he could start healing himself.

He cleared his throat, going back to the wires, and you resumed your scan of the perimeter, trying to push away confusing thoughts about what just had happened by replaying the plan in your head. Setting up additional cameras around the area, you’d see anyone coming in by ground or rooftops. Bucky would take care of placing your weapons in the designated spots, enabling you to arm them at a moment’s notice. If they went off… that was what the getaway car a few blocks up was for. Cyrus would have shared any habits of yours with Rollins’ team by now, including your proclivity to hide in public transit among throngs of people. Besides, they wouldn’t discriminate whether you were in a crowded setting or not. You both knew very well what HYDRA was capable of doing to innocent bystanders.

“I think we can start setting up here,” you pointed to a blind corner alley on Barb’s screens. Leading in from the main avenue a few blocks north, the shrubbery provided effective cover to anyone wanting to get too close. Bucky scooched over to you to take a look. 

“I’ll check it out; this might be a good place for the first blaster,” he said pointing at a nearby spot on the map. His warmth whenever he was near you was intoxicating, interfering with your focus. The white t-shirt he wore tightened around his body as he shifted; you thought it might rip with the slightest movement. His hair fell around his face, but never obscuring the bright blue of his eyes.

_Snap out of it._

“Yeah, sounds great,” you stood up gingerly, so as not to hurt yourself further, and moved towards the kitchen, leaving him looking after you perplexed. “We should work quickly,” you continued, filling in the obvious awkward silence that was sure to follow. “I saw them moving around Old Town earlier, looks like they’re setting up a base there–”

In your desperate attempt to ignore the mind-numbing effect Bucky kept having on you, without thinking you reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, and a sharp hiss escaped from your mouth as the familiar throbbing ache from your still healing wound shot up and down your body.

You recoiled, grabbing your side as Bucky crossed the distance in an instant, his hands at the ready for you to lean on him. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, opting for holding on to the counter rather than him for support, while he reached up for the glass. “Never really get used to that, I guess,” you said, half smiling, extending your hand and inadvertently wrapping your fingers around his.

You’d experienced static electricity before. It was inevitable when tinkering around conductors and wiring; slight bursts of energy you never gave a second thought to at this point. But this… 

As soon as your hands made contact, it felt like a million electrodes surged through every bone in your body, paralyzing you, a warming sensation coursing through you. You looked up from the glass to see Bucky’s eyes on yours, a different sort of intensity than usual. The longer you both stood there, the expectation that something else should be happening was palpable. 

You couldn’t let it get that far. You quickly turned away towards the sink, and you felt his fingers hesitantly slip away from yours. Did he feel that, too? _Do you want him to?_

“I never really thanked you.” You spoke filling the glass, trying to keep your hand steady. “For the whole… you know.”

He shook his head non-committedly. “It’s not a big–”

“It is.” You stared deep in his eyes, trying to express without words how much of a big deal it was, hoping he knew that you’d never let yourself be indebted to anyone as much as you were to him. 

He shifted slightly, and for a mad second you thought he might close the distance between you, and just put you out of the torment your heart was making you feel. 

But he wasn’t being stubborn. He couldn’t act on his feelings without knowing your true intentions, as much as he was fighting that precise urge at that moment.

It was your turn to clear your throat. “Anyway,” you turned away again, taking a sip of water, just missing the expression of pure longing in his face. Too much to say, not enough words.

He looked down at his feet, composing himself. “I’ll, um, go scope out that spot,” his face was his usual stoic self by the time you turned back to face him. You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything further. He held your gaze a bit longer than he had to, before turning away. 

As you watched his back move farther away from you towards the door, a desperate urge to say something, _anything_ , to make him turn around and look at you again, made you open your mouth… but then the door closed behind him, and you were left alone in the empty room.

***

“Camera’s all set, but we should–” Bucky cut himself off when he saw you sitting on the floor, top part of your body leaning on the bed, dead asleep. Barb warbled soothingly in front of you. He closed the door silently, not wanting to wake you. Your lack of sleep the past couple of days was evident; he’d seen how exhausted you’d looked as you both kept watch for Rollins and worked on your preventive security measures. You needed the rest.

He took a blanket off the bed and draped it over you carefully, the slight contact of his fingers on you as he did so making him feel that slight jolt of electricity he had felt just a couple of hours before.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew you felt it too; knew that a word from you would have him move earth and sky and hell itself to keep you close. Love wasn’t a foreign concept to him, he had seen the couples around the city long before you came into his life. The way they held hands, looking into each other’s eyes; smiles broad, hearts full. He’d resigned himself he’d never get to experience that, not while HYDRA’s programming was still a part of him, not while he was still missing parts of his life. He hadn’t counted on you becoming a deterrent to it all. And at this point, he knew losing you would make the despair and loss flood back again.

He shook his head, as he walked away from your sleeping form. He couldn’t put that pressure on you, it wasn’t fair. Whatever you ended up doing after this was over was ultimately your choice. He may not remember much about James Buchanan Barnes’ life before HYDRA, but he knew selfishness was not one of his traits.

He looked down at his hands, the hardened silver contrasting with the calloused flesh. Always reminding him of the difference between the man he was and the man he longed to be. It wasn’t until recently that he thought you’d help make him whole. Now the thought of being alone again was enough to make him break apart.

***

You awoke with a start, sitting up too quickly; your healing wound still tugging painfully at the skin on your side. You scrunched up your face; it was more annoying than painful by now, but the throbbing ache that followed would only subside with copious amounts of painkillers. Thankfully Bucky had stockpiled in bulk from his most recent trip to the Hospital.

You didn’t see him, but heard the shower running. He’d left the bathroom door open a crack, probably to make sure he’d be able to hear if you needed something. You sighed. 

You were more grateful than anything for his attention. He’d saved your life. But you knew this partnership had become something more than you were willing to accept. Settling down wasn’t something you felt you were meant for. Not that being on the run from Rumlow and the Avengers was settling down by any means, but… with Bucky? How would that even work? You had no idea if he had plans to leave Romania at all. Would he follow you? Would you follow him? And if anyone caught up with you… would he stand with you, against Stark? Against Steve…?

Your mind was full of questions, your body seeking certainty, and your feet found their way to the half-open door. You closed your eyes, thankful for the sounds of water running from within. Focusing on it, you tried to clear your mind, and you turned to lean backwards on the wall. The smell of soap and shampoo wafted from inside; as you inhaled, you imagined it was cleansing you from the blurry nightmares of pain and blood that had woken you up.

“Bucky,” you spoke softly, but you knew he’d hear you.

There was a pause, and then rush of water ceased. “Yeah?”

You gulped. You had to tell him; running was the only way you could live… the only way you’d make sure you were never held captive again. Not by HYDRA. Not by SHIELD. If he couldn’t live with that… 

There was no easy way to say it, it was now or never.

“If… if we don’t make it out,” you hesitated, and you could swear he was holding his breath at your words. “If we get cornered somehow… promise me–”

The door swung open, and there Bucky stood dripping water on the floor, towel around his waist and wet hair sticking to his face; his blue eyes blazing in both fear and anger as he realized what you were suggesting. “No.”

“Bucky,” your voice wavered, and he stood closer to you, droplets of water trickling on your face.

“I promise,” he said fervently, “ _on my life_ , that is not going to be an option.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you said just as fiercely. Tears were as dangerously close to falling down your face as his body was to yours.

“Y/N,” he reached towards you, but you moved away.

“You need to understand,” your voice was full on shaking at this point, as you wiped your face with your hand. “You asked me once why I’ve been running all this time. It’s because… as long as I run, they can’t get to me.”

“And they won’t,” he countered firmly. “Not while I’m around.”

He still didn’t get it. It was because of him that you were still here, in Romania, in his apartment. You should have been long gone by now, and it pained you to admit that what was making you stay was the unyielding draw he held over you. The comfort, the peace, the way it all just felt like home.

“Buck–”

A series of urgent blips from Barb cut you off, making you both turn towards the console. The holo-screens deployed as a newsreel announced:

_“Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria…”_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)   
> -BJ

_“…Our people’s blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them…” **  
**_

_“…The Wakandan King went on, asking for accountability from Tony Stark’s private Avengers organization, currently led by Captain Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America…”_

_“…What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria…?”_

Jesus, Steve, what the hell did you get yourself into now?” Bucky muttered, Barb’s holo-screens now switching from feed to feed as she logged keywords to grab as much relevant data as she could.

“I gather it’s a habit of his?” you arched an eyebrow at him, as his own words made his brow wrinkle slightly at the sudden familiarity.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quickly, shaking his head. You frowned, but didn’t push it as the newsreels took hold of your attention once again. “Who’s this Maximoff girl?”

“Must be a new recruit,” you said darkly. If you weren’t fully aware of how Rumlow was orchestrating everything to discredit the Avengers, you’d have thought Tony Stark was going off the deep end. Hadn’t he learned anything from back in New York? They’d been losing the American people’s trust ever since then, and now they were well on their way to losing the whole world’s. Rumlow was playing them flawlessly.

“She’s just a kid,” he said, reading up as Barb pulled up all records of Wanda Maximoff available, intuitively responding to their comments. She had been getting more and more perceptive to your commands, and even Bucky was able to navigate her console almost effortlessly. “Her brother died in Sokovia, her family killed by… a Stark weapon?”

It shouldn’t have surprised you… especially as your eyes zeroed in on the source of the attack. “They weren’t the only ones,” your voice shook slightly, enough for Bucky to take notice.

Barb had looped in to a camera feed in Lagos and was now playing back footage of Steve Rogers and one of Rumlow’s agents engaged in a fight, when the agent activated a bomb. You saw as Wanda Maximoff tried to suppress the blast, but ultimately failed. With shaking hands, you rewinded the reel and froze it in place, right before the explosion. The Stark Industries logo was faded and scratched off the enclosure, but the detonator in the agent’s hand was more than familiar.

It was one of yours.

***

“The longer I stay here, the sooner they’ll find us,” you said, throwing random items from around the room in your duffel bag, Bucky promptly unpacking them as he followed your frenzied strides around the room **  
**

“We’ve got the perimeter covered, and the car’s fueled up and ready, Y/N,” he said, making a face as he pulled out a mug that was clearly his from your bag.

“Don’t you get it?” you snapped, grabbing some pliers and a pair of pants. Again, not yours, but you were unfocused, frazzled. “They’ve been tracking my tech! All this time I’ve been worried about Stark finding out, but Rumlow’s been using what I’ve made to find me and stick me in a HYDRA dungeon to make more shit for them again–”

“No, you don’t get it,” Bucky said, blocking your path and holding on to both your arms in an effort to stand still. “They want you to run, they’re counting on it, and as soon as you walk out of this building, they’ll have you right where they want you.” You sighed, closing your eyes briefly, before looking back into his, full of concern.

He was right. What was the matter with you? Of course they were trying to flush you out. Using the best method possible, no less: making you face up to the consequences of your actions for the past year and a half. For the second time in a week, your eyes stung with unshed tears that you stubbornly tried to force away.  
  
“So many people dead, Bucky,” you whispered, trembling. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

His expression turned grim. Facing up to the things he’d done as the Winter Soldier never got easier, not even with your balancing presence in his life. He’d known what he was doing, even if he had no control over his actions. But you had control every step of the way… and chose to do it anyway.

He chose his next words carefully. “You weren’t selling to Rumlow, Y/N.”

“But I knew it was a possibility he’d get his hands on them one day.” You felt the first tear fall down your cheek, and turned away from him before you made yourself look even more vulnerable than you already felt. Running both hands through your hair, you sank down on the mattress, burying your face in your hands as thoughts of the massacres you were responsible for, albeit indirectly, flooded your mind. _So much for running…_

“I thought I was surviving… I didn’t care how. And now…”

“You can’t do this to yourself,” you felt Bucky kneel down in front of you.

You jerked your head up, your tear-stained eyes on his face again, “Haven’t you been doing the same all this time?”

He shook his head. “That’s different.”

“The hell it is.”

Bucky’s frustrated sigh summed it all up. If anyone could understand, make it all make sense, it was him. But how could he possibly give you an out from your sins, when he had trapped himself within the torment of his own?

“It’s… not going to go away.” The blue in his eyes seemed to grow darker. “The guilt. It will eat you up and drag you down and…” he drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t have the luxury of choosing what I remember. But you can either choose to ignore what you did, or…”

“…do better.”  
  
Even now, HYDRA was controlling your fate. Your problems weren’t only limited to your tech being tracked and used to torment you. There was no doubt Rumlow would be headed here soon if Rollins hadn’t been able to capture you yet, and seeing as how you hadn’t heard from Mihai since your encounter with Cyrus, they would have no shortage of local allies to help track you down.

If you were on your own and at full health capacity, you’d probably have done something reckless by now, consequences be damned. But time with Bucky had changed you, you couldn’t deny it. His constant search for humanity, just the pure warmth he managed to exude after everything he’d been through, and the trust, the most valuable thing that had grown between the two of you… you were struggling to figure out if this change was for better or for worse.

Absent-mindedly, you leaned your forehead against his, seeking solace in the fact that he was just as guilt-ridden about his past as you were, hoping to absorb some of that comfort he seemed to give off in droves.

Bucky didn’t pull away; on the contrary, he leaned in with a deep sigh, the contact being the most tender he’d felt from anyone in years. If there was anything in this world that could lessen the load of his crimes on his mind, it was your touch.

***

Staying put at the first sign of approaching danger had never been a part of your strategy. You didn’t know how Bucky did it. For all you knew he could be putting up a front, but he had an unreasonable ability to keep a level head when under pressure. He wrote things down as usual, read through pages of his notebook now and again, sometimes checking Barb for new information, but he mostly just sat and watched you… who was doing the complete opposite.

You’d pace all around the room, wipe down dishes that were already clean, and built more tech. So much, in fact, that your usual nest at the foot of the mattress now resembled a miniaturized junkyard. Being idle rather than on the run had made you overcompensate big time.

You’d constructed earpiece transmitters for the both of you, and encrypted a private channel to avoid anyone eavesdropping. You built brand new stunner batons, an unfinished prototype still shooting sparks from one end sporadically, like some sort of broken magic wand. You’d re-programmed Barb’s tech combination code to produce and modify plans for non-lethal tech. Your recent revelation that HYDRA was using the weapons you’d created had left an extremely sour taste in your mouth.

Bucky’s words, much like his presence, had nudged you towards a different kind of life. For the first time in… ever, frankly, you saw a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak horizon. You reminded him of his influence, recalling a moment shortly before you left D.C. He hadn’t known you were right on his heels back at the Ideal Federal Reserve Bank, until you told him.

“You let them live,” you said, hands busy clicking away, modifying the intensity of the traps around the perimeter, as Bucky sat across from you, a bemused expression on his face. “Those men back there, you let them go, even after…”

“I wasn’t going to,” as he spoke, his mind seemingly gathering more bits and pieces of his past, and he was relieved to find that they had been slowly pooling together, framing the person he’d been struggling for so long to be. Or maybe it was just you.

You were surprised to see a quick smile on his face, before fixing you with a more serious gaze. “But I had to… if I didn’t want to be the Soldier anymore.”

Your fingers stopped typing. “You’re not him. I don’t think you ever truly were.”

He lowered his head. “The Soldier may be just a HYDRA program… but I’m the one who did everything.” He looked back at you, his eyes imploring you to understand. And the nightmares, the panic attacks, the intensity with with he tried his hardest to keep himself from falling over the edge made absolute sense in that moment. The Soldier wasn’t ever really gone.

***

The conversation had halted to the point of a somewhat tense silence as you both sat in front of Barb’s screens, keeping an eye on the traps, hoping none would go off. You’d both agreed that if nothing happened that night, it meant Rollins had given up his search for you, and you’d take the opportunity to get out of town. But you still hadn’t fully committed to leaving on your own, and Bucky hadn’t expressed any preference to the matter.

You yawned. It had been a long three days.

“You can sleep if you want,” Bucky said, not taking his eyes off the screens.

“I’m not tired.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up,” you held back a laugh, but as you glanced at him, you saw him try to hide a smile as well.

Silence fell again.

Were you really going to leave him behind? After all this…?

Your mouth was suddenly dry at the prospect of voicing what you were thinking. You wet your lips, your mouth now a thin line, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you knew you had to have, when he spoke up first.

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“It’s not–“

“It’s ok. I know our chances are better if we split up.”

More silence. Neither of you had looked away from Barb, just registering the harsh inevitable reality. This might be the last time you saw each other. If not for awhile, for good.

“I just–” he cut himself off; out of your periphery you saw him fidgeting with a screwdriver you’d left on the floor.

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before staring back at the holo-screens. “I know.”

A slight nudge on his shoulder made him glance sideways, as you leaned your head on his shoulder. A knot rose up his throat, and he gulped it down. This was really happening… and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Where would you go?”, he asked clearing his throat, eyes straight ahead.

A single tear made its way down your cheek, but you didn’t bother wiping it away. “If I told you…”

***

“Y/N, wake up.”

You stirred, as Bucky leaned closer towards Barb. You rubbed your eyes and followed his gaze; one of your energy field traps had been deployed, blue-white sparks shining on screen.

You inhaled sharply; it was only a block away from your location. “What about the other quadrants?”

“None of the other traps have been deployed,” Bucky said, eyes darting all over the screens. “Let’s give it a second.”

You couldn’t see any movement around the perimeter. You tried zooming into the activated trap, but couldn’t get a clear view. _“Shit.”_

“I’m going out there.” He stood up, grabbing a knife, and one of your batons from the table.

“Here,” you threw one of the earpieces towards him, and he caught it as he walked towards the door. “Keep your eyes open, they may have some of my gear on them.”

He nodded, but paused before opening the door, turning to you. “I never thanked you either.”

You looked at him in surprise. “For what?”

“For everything.” And with that, he was gone.

***

_“Fucking racoons. Point 3’s clear.”_

You Iet out a sigh of relief. “Figures. Get back here before—“ but movement further north of your perimeter made you stop mid-sentence.

_“Y/N?”_

A run down van had drifted to a sudden stop in a dark street, and about four men in black tactical gear with long range weapons started busting through an old wooden door.

“No.”

_“Y/N, what’s going on?”_

“Not him.”

_“Tell me what–”_

“They’re at Vlad’s.” Your breath was caught in your chest, not able to come up with a plan. Your quick-thinking was temporarily disabled and all you could do was watch through your feeds, until Bucky snapped you out of it.

_“Guide me, where do I go?”_

“What? Fuck, no!” If you were about to lose Vlad to HYDRA, you weren’t about to let Bucky go. Not yet. Not like this.

_“Y/N, tell me where to go.”_ His firm voice in your ear trying to pacify you. _“You said it’s North from here?”_

“Um…” Shaking away your distress, you calculated the route to Vlad’s from Bucky’s location. “Safest route through the cemetery, about 1.2km north.”

_“Disable Points 2 & 5, I’m taking them with me.”_

You did as he said. “Bucky…”

_“It’ll be all right. Keep your eyes open… and on me.”_

_***_

Bucky flew through the dark streets of Bucharest, over rooftops, keeping to unlit corners and alleyways, until he made his way to the corner where Vlad’s pub stood. The door had been left ajar, and he backed up against the side of the building with the lowest light, away from the main avenues.

_“There’s a back door on the first floor, they’re covering that one. But there’s a trapdoor entrance on the roof they won’t know about,”_ your voice kept sending a flurry of information about the place into his ear. _“There’s a clasp under it, it’ll trigger an alarm if you don’t undo it before opening the door past a 30 degree angle.”_

“Sure, why make it simple?” he muttered under his breath.

_“Hey, I heard that.”_

Bucky, on the other hand, was intent on listening for sounds from inside. He could feel the heavy footsteps from two men pacing around the main floor. One by the door, the other walking up and down the other side of the wall where he stood. No signs of a struggle… yet.

“Headed to the roof.”

_“Watch out, someone approaching from the other side.”_

Catlike, his assassin instincts kicking in, Bucky clambered up the wall using the iron bars around the windows for support, already climbing over the roof’s edge and out of sight, as one of Rollins’ men turned the corner right where he had stood.

With a sigh, he turned around, and was met face to face with the terrified face of a white-haired man, holding a crowbar high over his head and swinging it down towards him. Startled, Bucky staggered backwards, falling on one knee, but managing to stop the crowbar’s impact with his metal hand.

_“Vlad!”_ Your voice awash with relief, answered his unasked question.

“I’ll teach you to fuck with my business, you–”

“I’m not with them,” Bucky cut him off. “Y/N sent me.”

“That is what they said last time,” Vlad sneered, snatching his crowbar from Bucky’s slacking grasp, and raising it at the ready once again.

Bucky slowly raised both his hands, making sure he wouldn’t attack him with the crowbar again, before taking his earpiece out and handing it over to him. “See for yourself.”

Vlad hesitated, but as soon as he heard your voice coming from the transmitter, he lowered the arm holding the crowbar.

“You have backup?” he asked Bucky, who shook his head. “Well, then. We are going to need some help.”

***

“There’s no one here, Boss.” **  
**

“They’ll be here. I know it.” Rollins was very much a betting man. That slippery snake Cyrus had led him here once already; he knew your attachment to this place was not something you were about to ignore, and the old barman was bound to be nearby.

A slight clatter on top of his head made them all point their guns upwards. Rollins held his fist up, positioning them all around the noise. A second sound on the other side of the room made him lead two of his men to cover it. He gave them a signal: fire on three.

The deafening sound of machine guns ripped through the roof, followed by shattered wood and debris falling down around them all.

Rollins expected to see a body or two falling along with all the rubble, but all he saw was a flash of blue light at his feet before he saw his weapon being pulled away from his grasp towards the floor, and he felt himself becoming heavier and heavier, unable to stand on his own two feet and keeling over to the floor, almost paralyzed. A frantic expression grew on his face, as he realized all his men were in the same position as him.

He heard footsteps. _Finally, Rumlow sent backup._ But as he struggled to raise his head a few inches off the ground, he saw dirty shoes, belonging to a crowd of about nine or ten burly and haggard-looking men, holding everything from baseball bats to industrial wrenches, looking down at him and his crew on the floor menacingly.

The old barman approached him, his entourage in tow. Behind him, Rollins spied a younger man, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, metal glinting on his left hand. Rollins’ eyes went wide, but before he could formulate a single word, the old man leaned over and said, “Sorry, bar’s closed.”

***

“Oh my god!,” you laughed rushing towards Bucky as he closed the apartment door behind him, and threw your arms around his neck.

He twirled you around once, a surprised smile broadening on his face. “Got ‘em good, huh?” _God your hair smells great._

“That was amazing!” you exclaimed as he put you down, and without thinking you grabbed his face with your hands, kissing him deeply.

It took about three seconds for you to realize what you’d done, opening your eyes to find bright blue ones staring right back at you.

_Oh god oh god oh god…_

You immediately stepped back, feeling a bright shade of red creeping up your face and babbling like an idiot. “I’m, uh, I… sorry, I don’t know w–”

But Bucky cut you off, leaning back in to you, continuing what you’d so inadvertently started. Electricity was surging through you, and you fell deeper into his embrace, the kiss magnifying the longer you held on to him, until you both pulled away to draw breath.

The blue in his eyes had an almost heavenly glow, as he searched your Y/E/C ones for a reaction, anything that confirmed that what he was feeling was real, that it was right.

_It felt so damn right._

You could barely breathe. Rollins, Vlad, and the rest had flown out of sight and out of mind… the only thing that mattered was Bucky. Bucky in your arms, Bucky holding you to him, as if you were about to float away and disappear forever, looking at you much the same way you were looking at him, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real, solid, and so close…

Before you knew it, your lips were on his again, the same hunger aching within you both, and neither broke the embrace as you made your way onto his bed, tangled together as one.

***

You both lay intertwined, eyes never wavering from the other, his hand stroking your cheek, your hand on his chest, tracing the scars he never liked to talk about.

As time had gone on, less and less words were needed between you, and so none were spoken. You both knew, known for awhile. But you had been too stubborn to admit it, to succumb to it, to let yourself feel.

Bucky had been too inundated by uncertainty to believe it could ever be real. You had tried to keep your distance every chance you could, pointing out the temporary status of your stay at any given turn… but you were still here. And now…

All you wanted to do was drink the other in, prolong the wait before any choice was made, before anything could interrupt the peaceful afterglow you were both gripped in… before you turned around and disappeared from his life forever.

“Stay,” he whispered. You closed your eyes, inhaling his words, his scent, his everything.

Could this really be it? Your chance to leave the tempestuous life you’d made for yourself behind? You had been what you made yourself out to be for so long, never considering the possibility of just _being_ with anyone, much less the mythical assassin you’d spied on those D.C. camera feeds all those months ago.

You had been Bucky’s saving grace… but would you be willing to accept that he may end up being yours after all?

“I’m…,” his arms tightened around you slightly, as if to emphasize his words. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

You leaned into him, wrapping your arm around his waist, memorizing the lines on his face, the shadows under his eyes, and diving deep into their blue. “You better not.”

A sweet smile curved on his lips as he met yours once more.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some angsty fluff (but then more angst), gun violence, death, blood. I hope that last scene was enough of a buffer for what’s about to happen… Please don’t hate me <3 –BJ

_“More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda’s King T'Chaka…”_

  
You had never wanted to throw something at Barb before now. The news report she deployed made you stir from within Bucky’s embrace, but all you wanted was to sink back into deep sleep, just be warm and comfortable in his arms…

_  
“…Officials have released a video of a suspect whom they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier…”_

  
Your eyes snapped open, sitting upright and staring at Barb’s screen, Bucky following suit. 

There he was, on the screen, in a parking lot structure in Vienna… but that wasn’t right.

“That’s not…”

“…Possible,” you finished his sentence, grabbing the first article of clothing you found on the floor, his long sleeve shirt, and scrambling out of bed towards Barb, trying to get a biometric scan running for the grainy image in front of you. “Come _on,_ ” you said hurriedly, deploying the news report on a separate screen and pulling up maps of Vienna to trace the origins of the footage, featuring Bucky’s impostor.

“Where else is this being reported?” he said, approaching the screens. Barb popped up video from all over the globe.

“It was the United Nations, Bucky. It’ll be everywhere by now,” you said, still trying to get the scan working, but the image wasn’t clear enough for Barb. _“Damn it.”_

He scanned the reports. Just like Nigeria was intended for you, this was designed to flush him out. Rumlow wasn’t just after you now. He wanted the Soldier, too. 

They knew where he was now; all Rumlow had to do was get him out in the open. What better way to get to Captain America? He was bound to join in the chase.

He sighed, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. You felt his resolve slipping away; the blissful effect from the previous night washing off from you both.

You rose from your spot on the floor to meet him, your hands on his bare chest, the way you did when you guided him to breathe through his waking nightmares. He held them in place with his own, grasping at the stability you offered him, however temporary it may be.

“It’ll be ok,” you fixed him with a determined look, his blue eyes clouded with worry. “We got through all right last time.”

“Your face wasn’t being plastered all over the news circuit, Y/N, mine is,” he was trying to keep calm, but his level-headedness apparently had hit a limit. You couldn’t blame him.

“I’ll fix this,” you said firmly. “Once we’re out of range, I swear, I’m clearing your name one way or another.”

“Out of range?” he stepped back from you, letting go of you, panic taking hold at last. “Where, exactly?” He motioned towards the screens, Barb pulling up newsreel after newsreel as she kept searching for places reporting on the attack. “There’s nowhere to go! And even if there were, I’d have to fight my way through god knows how many armies to get there!” He turned away, his metal limb glinting softly in the darkened room; Barb’s projections the only source of light in the room. A strange sense of déjà vu crept over you.

“We.” you spoke softly.

His hands on his hips, he hung his head down low, his back to you. He looked ethereal in the screen’s blue glare. You wished you could turn time back and fall down, tangled deeper into the bedsheets with him again. 

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You already did, Bucky.”

“That was _before_ –” frustrated, he whirled around back to you, his hands on both sides of your face, as though the feel of you would ground him again. “Y/N, I thought we were done, with running. We were done fighting, this is…” he trailed off, his pained face devastated as he realized they were losing all that could have been. 

Putting your own hands over his, you brought them down from your face, placing a quick kiss on his knuckles. With a sigh, he leaned in, his forehead meeting yours, seeking solace in each other as you kept running worst case scenarios in your minds. 

“Wait a second…” you muttered, slowly letting go of Bucky and crouching down to open up a command prompt. If Barb was able to pull news reports related to Bucky from all around the world… then surely she could do the opposite? There had to be a place far from Rumlow’s reach, neutral enough that you both could hide out in for awhile. 

You would go to the ends of the world for Bucky, you knew that now. And if running was the only way to keep you together, to keep him safe and away from the fight… well, you had plenty of experience in that field. 

You got an answer a few minutes later. “Here.”

The island was remote, uninhabited, the region a fishermen’s domain. It would be easy to hitch a ride from a local. No outside influence marred the peaceful lifestyle of the people in the Faroe Islands, and there was enough atmospheric interference that would keep you two well off the grid for a long time. 

“I don’t know about this…” Bucky protested, but you had already set Barb on auto search for a secure route out of Bucharest. 

“You stay here, keep an eye on the feeds,” you said, gathering up a substantial amount of cash from your duffel stash in the closet. “I’ll get everything ready, you just start packing.”

“Y/N, wait–” he tried to make a grab for your hand, but you swept past him towards the opposite side of the room, to grab some flash drives and leftover tech pieces. 

“If I can just dump most of this stuff, I can secure some favors to get us out of the city,” you continued, your mind racing with everything you had to do. 

“Y/N,” Bucky kept trying to get your attention.

“I’ll stop by Vlad’s and clean it out, the less traces of us there are around, the harder it’ll be–”

“Stop!” Bucky’s suddenly raised voice stopped you in your tracks. You both stared at each other for a few seconds, breaths sharp; Bucky dreading the moment you stepped out that door without him, you terrified that if you wasted any more time, you’d miss the one chance you had to keep him safe.

You didn’t think twice about it. Dropping everything you carried on the floor, you closed the distance between you in a flash, jumping onto his arms as he caught you effortlessly, pulling you into a passionate kiss. Legs hooked on his hips, you held on to him, his arms holding you up, one hand tangled in your hair, refusing to let you go. 

There it was; that surging electricity that connected the two of you in a frenzy of pure passion was, ironically, the grounding effect you both needed. It stopped time, extinguished your fears, shielded you from harm; it didn’t matter if the world was crumbling around you. This was the realest thing you two had ever had. It was worth the risk to protect it with every fiber of your being. To run. To fight. Whatever it took.

He broke the kiss, nuzzling the side of your face, wanting to breathe in your every pore, you running your hands over every inch of his skin, memorizing him by touch alone. “Please come back,” he mumbled into your hair.

“Please be here,” you whispered back, both breathlessly holding on to each other for just one more second, solidifying your promise to each other, until your feet finally touched solid ground again. Blue on Y/E/C, he brushed his lips against yours one last time, before you rushed out the door, leaving him waiting anxiously in your wake.

****

Vlad didn’t hesitate when you presented him with your plan. “I have a friend who can take you to Lítla Dímun from Bergen,” he had said, pushing your hand full of cash away. “That’s two I owe you, now.” 

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it; Vlad’s generosity had extended towards Bucky as well, assuring him that he was welcome back to his bar whenever he wanted after taking care of Rollins and his men. But you still left him a substantial amount under the cash register after he had left to contact his friend from Norway. He would need it more than you did once you and Bucky were gone and not around to help him anymore.

You took the opportunity to clear out the remnants of your old safehouse. Once again that feeling of déjà vu hit you, as you broke down remaining boxes, packing cables and parts. The truth was, running wasn’t just a way of survival for you. It had become a part of who you were… and now Bucky would join you. You didn’t have to do it alone this time. 

It was past noon once you’d finished, when you locked the back door of the Pub as instructed, a bag full of gear slung over your shoulder.

“Guess my aim needs a little work.”

You froze in place, as you heard the safety click of a gun behind you following Cyrus’ all too familiar voice.

“Figures you wouldn’t be able to shoot straight,” you sneered, contempt in your voice. “Better make it count this time.”

“Always with the jokes.” You heard a footstep in your direction, and before you let him get the drop on you again, you took your chance. Turning around, you swung around the bag full of parts at Cyrus’ head, which made him stagger, loosening his grip on the revolver. Taking advantage of his position, you delivered a swift kick at his crotch, and he yelped, falling to his knees. You lunged into a crouch, catching the gun before it hit the ground, and quickly aiming it square at his head.

Cyrus’ eyes were wide, dead set on you, as you breathed heavily. He hadn’t counted on you being so dexterous, but you’d were nothing if not a quick study, especially from the world’s most feared assassin.

Truth was, guns were not your thing. Holding them always felt heavier to you than mere physical weight. You never had been good at facing up to things head on, you usually executed your damage from a safe distance, never having to look too closely at the remains.

Cyrus knew this. He’d never seen you even hold a gun before. He let out a laugh through his bleeding mouth, a part from your bag having smashed some teeth in, probably. “You won’t do it.”

You inhaled sharply, keeping the gun as steady as you could muster. Your knee felt stiff against the concrete, a cold sweat glowing on your face, afraid you’d lose your leverage if you moved a single inch… but you had to get back to Bucky. You couldn’t stay here.

“Screw you, Cyrus,” you said, slowly picking yourself up, still aiming the gun at him. “You should be so lucky to be worth a single slug.” You made it on your own two feet, grabbing your bag’s strap with your other hand, while Cyrus kept his narrowed eyes on you.

“You should hurry on home, bet your guard dog’s hungry.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, backing up from him. _Just forget him, get to Bucky._

“You won’t get too far, Y/N!” he shouted. “Can’t run forever!”

“Just try me,” you said, turning to walk away. But the crunch of his foot on the floor behind you echoed a bit too loudly throughout the alley walls.

It all happened too fast. Your survival instinct coupled with your desire to get to Bucky made your movements almost involuntary. You turned, aimed the gun straight ahead, and pulled the trigger. When you blinked, Cyrus was on the floor, blood oozing out of his neck as he let out a few gurgling gasps.

The sound of the shot reverberated in your ears, obscuring everything around you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Cyrus’ mangled throat, his grunts getting more and more agitated, until he stopped moving completely.

You glanced at the gun in your hand, already feeling heavier than ever. Your breathing became shallow, your eyes stinging and blurring with tears pooling in your eyes, not daring to let the gun go, lest it claimed another victim.

You shut your eyes tight and shook your head, but when you opened them again, Cyrus was still there, dead eyes staring straight up, more blood spilling out of him. 

_I killed him. Not HYDRA. Not Mihai. Not Pierce._

There was no third party to blame this time.

Panting, gasping breaths full of distress, you began wiping fingerprints off the gun on your jacket, dropping it with shaking hands as you backed away from the scene. 

_Get to Bucky._ Bucky who would know exactly what to say, what to do, how to help you navigate through the overwhelming guilt of taking a life, even if it was the life of a scumbag like Cyrus.

There wasn’t anything else you knew how to do. So you ran.

***

Bucky had gone down to disable the remaining traps you’d both set up for the ambush; they’d never deployed and he knew you may have need for them on the way out of Bucharest. **  
**

But on the way up he heard it. Someone was in the apartment. And judging from the heavy footsteps, it wasn’t you.

He sneaked up the stairs, sliding a hand into his pocket for one of the grenades, ready to activate it. He leaned in to peek in through the door, and was met with the sight of a man, clad in blue tactical gear, holding a white and red shield.

_Steve._

Bucky shook himself internally, trying to bury the growing familiarity with which his mind was reacting. The last time Bucky had seen him, he had been trying to beat the Captain into a bloody pulp.

_But you saved him._

What did it matter now? Bucky was on his way to a new life, one without HYDRA. Without nightmares of his past. You had been right, it was better this way.

His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, however. The draw of this man, the allure of a past life that may give him all the answers he had been searching for. Bucky never had been very good at letting go of the past.

He found himself standing in the door frame, as Steve reached out to grab a book from the top of the refrigerator. Bucky cursed himself for leaving it out in the open like that. He’d intended to give it to you for safekeeping once you’d returned, a mark to the start of your new life together. He trusted you implicitly with the information within the pages… and if anyone was able to figure out how to clear his name from all the horrors he’d committed, it would be you.

Bucky moved carefully towards the window by the bed, eyes fixed on the man in front of him. Barb was still warbling quietly in the corner where you’d left her. Glancing at her screens, he saw a man scouting a corner, but then, quite suddenly, wings deployed from his back and he shot upwards and off the frame. Bucky had to hold back a mild scoff. _Where the hell did they get these guys?_

But at that moment, the Captain turned around. He regarded Bucky with amazement, a stark contrast to the assassin that had fought him back in D.C. After a beat, he spoke up first.

“You know me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.” Bucky’s words weren’t much of an answer, either.

Steve sighed, his tone understanding. “I know you’re nervous, but we both know that’s not true.”

_I know you’re a stubborn punk from Brooklyn, and it’s going to take a lot to get you to turn around and leave well enough alone,_ Bucky thought darkly. Steve was suited up, clearly not alone. Was he planning on fighting him? Or someone else?

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore.”

“Then come with me,” Steve’s tone was hopeful. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Bucky said. _Me and Y/N got each other for that._

“I think you need all the help you can get, Buck.” The name triggers a swift memory, but he shuts his eyes briefly, breathing to keep it at bay. “The people who think you blew up the United Nations are looking for you.”

“How do I know you and your bird pal aren’t leading them straight here?” Bucky growled.

“We’re not the ones you need to be afraid of,” Steve straightened his back, squaring off against his old friend, who maintained a fair amount of precautionary distance between them. “I know there’s someone else you’re protecting. We can help.”

Bucky’s look turned menacing. “I’m not leaving.”

“You’ll be putting them at risk if you don’t come with me now.”

“There’s so much more to this you don’t understand,” Bucky was getting desperate… and it didn’t help when Barb chose the moment to alert him about multiple threats approaching every corner of the building. The look on Steve’s face told him that his flying friend was relaying similar information.

“We’re the good guys Buck, this doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

Bucky sighed, ultimately resigning himself to the path he kept trying to get away from. “It always ends in a fight.”

***

You barely noticed where you were going, feet moving on auto-pilot back to the apartment, paying no mind to the fact that the streets seemed quieter than usual, no passersby or joggers out. It wasn’t until you pushed your way through the building’s door that you walked straight into mayhem. Staircase railings ripped off from the walls, plaster and debris everywhere, broken windows and doors, grenade smoke still lingering and wafting from the top floors.

_Bucky._

You made your way up the now dilapidated staircase, panic growing in your chest. “Bucky!” you shouted, not caring if anyone else heard. “Bucky!”

The tightness in your chest grew, almost weighing you down when you kept calling out to him on every floor and didn’t get an answer back. But it wasn’t until you saw the apartment door had been ripped out its hinges that you physically couldn’t hold it together anymore.

Dragging your feet across the door frame, you saw the apartment in shambles. The windows blown out, the mattress against the wall, the table and cinder blocks strewn about. Destroyed. Empty.

Your legs gave way as you fell down on your knees, the devastating conclusion you didn’t want to believe taking hold of your very soul.

Bucky was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo boy. Angsty af. All the angst. Just all of it. Some violence, fight scenes, and mentions of death and blood. --BJ

The basement safe house was empty, no signs of it being disturbed since that first day you met Bucky. You figured he’d have the same sense you’d had and make his way back here, where everything started. After all, neither of you had thought of a contingency plan in the event that things may go awry. Stupid of you, really. Thinking with your heart instead of your brain. You’d never been guilty of that before.

Setting down all your belongings, you crossed the room and sank down on an upturned crate in the corner, your exhaustion and agitation catching up to you, but you didn’t dare close your eyes. Spots of blood red would cloud your vision every time you blinked, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, not with the persistent anxiety of not knowing where Bucky had gone, if Cyrus’ body had been found, and whether Vlad had gotten ahold of his Norwegian friend or not. You just had to hold out a little longer, Bucky would come bursting through that door at any moment and… _And?_

You looked down, unclenching the fist that had been gripping a small drive you’d salvaged from Barb’s remains back at the apartment. The damage to the console was irreparable, but you had managed to forcefully extract Barb’s brain center, the algorithm and most of her processes safely embedded in the alloy object in your hand. You could always access your virtual backups and reprogram the software somewhere else. But you were flying blind for now, feeling somewhat exposed without Barb looking out for your safety. Just something else you had to do without for the time being.

You tried to spend the time building more gear from the stuff you’d brought with you, but without Barb’s blueprints you were going by muscle memory. It didn’t much matter what you were making, as long as your hands were moving, your brain wouldn’t drag you down towards the darker places of your sanity. Your eyes absentmindedly traveled towards the door every few minutes, your mind tricking you into thinking you’d heard a knock or silent footsteps approaching the door.

By 2am you’d given up on building anything functional; parts and tools forgotten on the floor. You were sitting against the wall opposite the door, arms wrapped around your legs, eyes staring straight ahead, willing the door to open. It was late. More than twelve hours had gone by. And still no sign of Bucky.

You must have dozed off at some point, because you were woken up abruptly by a honking truck driving by outside. Disoriented, you looked around, noticing light coming in through the cracks in the walls, the place still empty, except for you.

Your heart was racing now, the inevitable feeling of despair unfolding all over you, making your whole body shiver. The feeble threads of strength had begun to fray back at the apartment, they were splitting off one by one, fragmented beyond repair… and the remaining ones broke as soon as you snapped. A familiar wave of rage, sorrow, frustration at letting yourself be put in this position washed over you as objects went flying around the small room. You were lost, alone… left behind. Again.

_“WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?!?!”_ you couldn’t help but scream in fury, tears running down your cheeks, as you showed this last safe haven no mercy, wishing nothing but to disintegrate everything in your path, until you had no energy left for anything, except sob uncontrollably on the floor.

He wasn’t coming back here. Maybe he couldn’t…. But what did it matter now? You were stranded in Romania, your plans crippled, no guidance out of the city…

_No Bucky._

As much as your outrage didn’t want to let you admit it, it was the fact that you’d lost him that was making you convulse in anguish, hugging your knees up to your chin, your heart hopelessly broken as you tried to recall his warm touch, his soft hair, the way his lips had moved in on yours…

This is why attachments were a bad idea, why you’d done your best to leave everything behind, no connections, no strings. This is what it did to you. You weren’t equipped for this disheartening feeling filling up your insides, weighing you down into nothingness.

Hours went by. The light and traffic sounds outside transformed into darkness and cricket chirps in the cool night. Your tears had subsided, having cried yourself out, your limp, tired frame still on the ground, lacking the strength to move.

But move you must. And fast. Get out of the city, away from this place. You were destined to be a team of one, it seemed. There was no one to help you this time.

Well… there was someone. And it was going to take a hell of a lot to convince them.

***

“I have to go back.”

The abandoned warehouse was devoid of people, but old equipment and deteriorated tools were plenty and scattered. Bucky felt perfectly sure he’d be able to make a stand here against HYDRA and whoever else was after him. Steve and Sam were warily standing at a distance; Steve struggling with the lack of kinship his old friend was displaying, Sam gauging his surroundings, watching his back.

They’d managed to give their pursuers the slip a few blocks away, but Bucky wasn’t going to wait around for long. He’d made a promise, he was so close… So close from escaping the nightmarish existence he’d been carrying along with him

“The Quinjet’s not far,” Sam said, seemingly ignoring Bucky’s words. “We can hop out of this place in less than thirty, but we better have a plan.”

“I’m going back.” Bucky wasn’t sure why he kept saying it, though. He could just go, Steve and Sam be damned. But something about the way Steve kept looking at him, how he didn’t hesitate to help him get away back there… It felt like he needed his blessing to do what he so desperately wanted to do. He’d never been accountable to anybody, you being the only exception. And it had taken weeks to develop that kind of devotion. But it was different with Steve. The devotion was always there… it had just been dormant for awhile. And he wasn’t sure if he could fight it as much as he wanted to.

“Buck, if you go back there, they’ll just follow you again, you know that,” Steve said, taking one step towards him.

“I told you, I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, great job running from those thugs on your own, you want a standing ovation?” Sam quipped up, sarcasm dripping on his words.

“Steve, I’m going.” Bucky started walking away from them, but Steve, as usual, wasn’t about to give up so easily.

“Whoever you think you’re going back to, do you really think they’d wait around this long?”

He was right of course. Bucky knew you’d been running long enough to know better than to wait around for him at the trashed apartment. But there was at least one place you both knew about that he thought he might find you. The basement safehouse he took you when he first met you, for one. Vlad’s pub for another.

“I have a plan.” He didn’t, but he knew he’d be able to make it up as he went along.

“So do we.” Steve squared his shoulders, trying to relax his eyes as he implored to his friend for his cooperation. “We can go get backup–“

And then it hit him. Bucky wasn’t asking for permission to leave. He was asking Steve to go with him. He was close to losing you altogether, he didn’t want to have to leave Steve behind, too. And if it took two Super Soldiers to find you, he’d make it happen one way or another.

“I need to find her, Steve,” he said. “She’s the only one that can clear my name, if you really want to help me…”

Sam scoffed. “Should have figured it was for a girl,” he muttered under his breath.

“Please,” Bucky’s voice was desperate now. “It’s not too late, I can still find her.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, was in the middle of a difficult choice: let his friend go, or help him cover more ground. He sighed deeply. He cared about Bucky too much. And it may exasperate Sam to no end, but he wasn’t about to let him go that easily this time. Not if there was a possibility to clear him of any wrongdoing and give him his life back.

He glanced at Sam, letting him know he was free to go without him. But Sam just rolled his eyes, shook his head, and crossed his arms, standing firm by his side. Steve turned back to Bucky, whose eyes were fixed on him, waiting for his answer.

“Where do we start?”

***

Your hoodie up, satchel slung on your shoulder, duffel in the other, you walked steadily towards Warehouse Row in Sector 4. It was a long shot, but the amount of security around the area told you your hunch was correct. Mihai was here.

Your resolve had been cemented after a few more hours of wallowing self-pity: you could let yourself get defeated by your own emotions, wither away until hunger (or looters, or worse) did away with you. Or you could do what you’d always done: look out for yourself, put together your own plan, and rebuild somewhere else. Your hopes of Bucky coming back to find you were diminishing by the minute. You had no idea if he was dead, captured, or forced to leave without you…. _Or maybe he just got rid of the dead weight._

That savage part of your brain was desperate for you to think the worst of him, to try and rid yourself from the memories and the sentiment. It was easier to think he’d never cared in the first place, to cut the cord and leave. But the truth was, you had no proof one way or the other. And speculating about it wasn’t going to change anything. So, face expressionless, your features more exhausted than emotionless, you walked up a path towards the entrance of a storage unit, blocked by two giants wearing tailored suits.

“I have a delivery,” you said, voice low.

“And I believe you’re late, Y/N,” the smooth voice called from within the unit. The two suits moved aside, and you saw Mihai, sitting in a chair in the middle of the unit, a small table next to him, a glass of his favorite champagne on it.

“Slumming it a bit, aren’t you Mihai?” you said, your voice still low, but steady as ever. Out of your periphery, you saw more of his men crowding around, forming a sort of shifting semi circle as you walked closer towards Mihai, probably in an effort to intimidate you. You may have been feeling a lot of things stemming from the events of the last few days. But you hadn’t forgotten it was Mihai who’d kept you in Romania longer than you’d wanted, who’d threatened Vlad, who’d pitted you against Cyrus… No, fear was not what you were feeling at the moment. Pissed off, more like.

“It’s been an exciting couple of days, Draga Mea.” You flinched at the nickname. “I’m making sure my investments are being properly secured.” He tilted his glass towards you. “A few strange characters have shown up in my city, and seeing as how I still don’t have the tech I paid you for…”

“I believe you only paid for 20% of it,” you deadpanned. His eyes narrowed. You knew you looked worse for wear; you hadn’t slept in three nights, but you were running on pure spite. The old Y/N that would cater to his demands was gone, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed with this version of you.

“No partner today, Y/N?” He said, trying to get back command of the conversation. “Big, dark hair, does all the heavy lifting?”

He must have noticed the slight pang of pain that crossed your face at his mention of Bucky. The wound was too fresh for it not to affect you.

“I don’t do partners,” you drew a slow breath, fixing him steadily with your sunken eyes. “Or didn’t you hear what happened to the last one?”

“Yes, I was surprised to hear of your disposal of Cyrus,” he said with a smirk. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”  
  
“Well, I’m just full of surprises today.”  
  
With a quick wrist flick and a flash of a switchblade, you sliced the bottom of the satchel, its contents spilling out across the floor. Magnetized grenades rolled all over the room, following Mihai’s lieutenants. They had drawn their weapons at your movements, but now all they could do was try to fruitlessly back away from the spheres as they followed them around the room.  
  
Mihai stood stock still, a couple of the grenades had made it to his snakeskin loafers, and his alarmed eyes met your cold ones as you held up a detonator.  
  
“I’m done. Leave Vlad alone, you don’t follow me, the city’s all yours.” You said, only moving to throw the duffel bag in front of you. “So’s all this. It’s all the gear I have, let these guys have fun with it,” you gestured at the room, as more armed thugs entered the room at the commotion, only to find themselves cornered by the rogue spheres. You ignored the yelps of surprise around you. “You stand in my way…” you trailed off. glancing at the detonator in your hand and back at him.

You saw Mihai swallow hard, trying to keep calm and stoic, but the effect was being ruined by the panicked screams of his bodyguards. He nodded at you, eyes fearful at your transformation into this calculating opponent. He never should have underestimated you.

You turned, not bothering to deactivate the grenades, and began walking away.

“Planning on coming back, Draga Mea?,” you heard a slight shiver in his voice. And for a slight, dark second, you considered just clicking the detonator. 

What did it matter if Mihai and his stupid crime syndicate died in a fiery blaze? The world would be better off without scum like him anyway. You’d already killed Cyrus, what did it matter if more lives were also claimed by your hand?

But something stopped you. You weren’t sure what, but you reasoned you’d already done what you’d set out to here. Who knows, maybe you’d be able to tap into Mihai’s well of information about the city at some point. Lord knows he had his resources. You’d always been good at using people for your advantage.

You breathed deep once you were at the door of the storage unit, feeling cleansed of the turbulence your association with Mihai had on you at long last, throwing the detonator on the floor. “You’ll know if I do.”

Pace slow but sure, you made your way back to Sector 2. There was one more stop you had to make.

***

Bucky had mapped out a series of routes towards the safehouse; Sam would go high, scouting the area from above, then Steve would search the north side of the block for enemies, before he tagged Bucky to sneak inside. 

But as soon as Bucky made his way through the alleyway that led to the entrance of the safehouse, a large masked figure blocked his path. Wearing heavy armor, a mask, and two lethal-looking gauntlets, he was armed to the teeth. 

A metal rod was lying against the wall, and Bucky didn’t hesitate in grabbing it and aiming it towards the intruder, who deflected it effortlessly.

“Easy Soldier,” Crossbones took off his helmet. “I just wanna talk. Been _longing_ to, y’know?”

Bucky blinked, a weird feeling stirring in him, but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to make the first move.

Rumlow seemed to be calculating, gauging his reactions carefully. He nodded at Bucky’s arm. “That thing _rusted_ yet?”

Again, a slight flash of pain made him wince, but he held his ground. Whatever this guy was planning on doing, as long as he kept talking…

“I remember you had more than _seventeen_ guys working on that arm at a time.”

Bucky couldn’t help but stumble on his own feet at that. He shut his eyes, clapping his hand to his head, a pounding headache thumping away in his brain. He knew what was happening now.

“You’ll be ours again by _daybreak_ , big boy.”

Bucky’s vision was clouded, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Not emotions… the Soldier was awakening and was already trying its hardest to shut out any feelings that stood in the way of HYDRA’s commands.

“N-no…”

“Out of the frying pan, into the _furnace_ , am I right??” Rumlow’s voice was becoming more and more savage with every word he spoke.

Bucky crashed against the side wall, gripping his head, the words Rumlow spoke unlocking the unspeakable horrors he had tried to hard to stow away.

“That’s right, come out big boy, we’re almost at _nine_ words.”

“STOP!” Bucky tried to lunge at Rumlow, but he side-stepped and Bucky landed face-first on the ground.

“Not so _benign_ after all,” Rumlow stepped around him, and Bucky twitched, memories now being pushed away as HYDRA’s programming kept creeping into his mind. He didn’t think it was possible, he thought he’d suppressed the Soldier long enough. If he could at least manage to strike a blow on Rumlow…

“Relax Soldier, we have quite a _homecoming_ planned out for you,” Rumlow leaned forward, activating his shock gauntlets as Bucky roared in anguish. Your face, your touch, it was all slipping away from him, replaced with nothing but submissiveness and turmoil.

“And we only got _one_ more to go…” but before he could say another word, a blur came flying out of nowhere,knocking him away from Bucky and sending him flying jaw-first against the wall, just as Steve came running from around the corner, his Shield disabling one of his gauntlets. Rumlow gave him a bloody grin, before disappearing through the traffic-heavy avenue across from them.

“Should we follow him?” Sam asked, his hand at the ready to deploy Redwing at Steve’s command.

“S–Steve,” Bucky’s hoarse voice from the ground had him running to his friend’s side in an instant. “Y/N… where is she?”

Steve shook his head. “There’s no one else here, Buck.” Bucky groaned, trying to shake away the haze that had been clouding his consciousness; the Soldier knowing it had been so close to take over his mind once again and still putting up a fight.

“We gotta move,” Sam said, noticing a few passersby halting at the mouth of the alleyway, looking curiously in their direction. “Now.”

***

You tipped back the glass, chugging the warm liquid. It coated your throat as it made its way down; the only thing you’d ingested in days. You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep anything else down, to be honest.

Vlad brought down the last of your bags, and you followed him through the back door of the building, a car already waiting for you. As he packed the trunk for you, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze at the spot where Cyrus had died in front of you. He’d obviously been recovered, the blood washed away. But you could still see it. It flashed before your eyes like static from a TV with bad reception, your hand pulling the trigger, his body falling before you, the blood pooling around him.

You didn’t think you had any more tears left to cry, so you were surprised when Vlad handed you a handkerchief to dry the ones that had trailed down your face. “You sure you won’t stay?” he asked.

You desperately wanted to. The first and last familiar place in Romania you had left. But it was tainted now. Everything had gone wrong, and there was nothing else for you to do… except run. It’s what you did best.

You gave him a swift hug, and still sniffling, you turned away towards the car, until you remembered something. Reaching into your shoulder bag, you pulled out Bucky’s leather-bound book. 

You’d read enough of it to know that it was a journey he’d need to revisit again at some point. But that was what your time together was now. Just memories. 

Some of them were in those pages. The planetarium you’d made for him; notes on constellations in the margins. Barb’s applications, what he had learned about the software during your convalescence. Your name popped up here and there… but nothing about who you were. About what you’d shared. About what he felt. You were just a footnote in somebody else’s life.

Running away together was a fairytale, you knew that now. But you’d made a promise, and within the pages of the book, you’d left enough to fulfill it.

Your voice trembling, you told Vlad, “Will you… give this to him? If you see him?”

***

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Vlad found himself opening the already locked door to his bar, face to face with the man they called Captain America and his friend the Falcon, holding up Bucky as he leaned on both of them for support. “Where is she?” Bucky croaked out.

The old man just sadly shook his head, and stood aside, motioning for them to come inside.

He grabbed a bottle and four small glasses as the three men headed towards a table off to the side. “Drink up,” he said, nodding at Bucky. “You will need rest.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sam muttered, pouring himself a glass, “I’ve had a hell of a day already.”

“Vlad, please,” Bucky said, ignoring the glasses in front of him. “Where is Y/N?”

He had turned back to the bar, and seemed to be rummaging for something under the counter. “Missed her.” He emerged, holding the notebook. “Left this for you,” he said, throwing it down on the table in front of him.

Bucky went cold. His one hope of finding her, of feeling whole, feeling like himself again…

His hands trembled as he picked up the notebook. Some pages had become loose, no doubt during the aftermath of his and Steve’s fight back at Bloc 10, but she had taken care of putting everything back into order for him. The binding at the back seemed fuller than usual, though. He flipped the book over, and saw a sheet of paper, with access codes and instructions to retrieve… something, scribbled all over it. A flash drive fell out along with it.

“Do you know what’s in here?” Steve asked, picking up the drive and examining it closer.

“Proof,” Bucky said softly. He still held on to the sheet, not wanting to let go of the last physical remnant of you. “About me. About HYDRA. About Vienna.”

He let out a deep sigh, sinking back into his seat. “To clear my name.”

“So what, she’s gone?” Sam asked incredulously.

But you’d left your answer clear as day on the last page of the notebook, sure Bucky would see it as soon as he discovered his Get Out Of Jail Free card. In bold letters, your words stung him deeper and deeper as he kept re-reading them over and over, just as much as it had pained you to write them:

_**I promised.** _

_**Don’t look for me.** _


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialing up the ANGST, there's some references to substance abuse, alcohol, etc, and totally off movie canon from now on. It's the beginning of the end! -BJ

**_6 months later_ **

The hum and whirrs of network server fans had always been comforting. A constant, calming, pleasant sound, like a low and steady breathing. It only ever changed in rhythm when a circuit needed replacing, or a system reboot was necessary. Clear memory caches, restart, problem solved. Unfortunately, your mind, plagued with the past you’d come to resent, wasn’t as easy to reboot. You’d found that out the hard way.

Taito Ward was a good place to try to forget. Wandering the streets at night, you found you rather enjoyed how sleepless the city was, just like you. Its vibrancy seemed to flow with an ease that you craved for yourself, but was always just out of reach.

Everybody minded their own business in Taito, and you liked it that way. You kept to yourself most of the time, and the right price allowed you to live your life of self-imposed exile in peace. What better place was there for a bounty hunter to hide out in solitude?

It was here that you’d first heard about rEM, a powerful sleep-inducer that created pleasant dreams out of memories. An overzealous chemist had overdosed his partner on the stuff during an experiment. Your job was to track him down, and hand him and his findings over to the CDC. They didn’t want the potential liability of a mad scientist during their critical distribution phase.

Intrigued about the potential effects, which evidently worked in controlled doses, you demanded payment in the form of rEM, and nothing else. They knew better than to refuse. Alcohol alone had stopped knocking you out at night long ago, having tried everything for just a few minutes of peaceful slumber, only to drown in sorrowful nightmares and frantic awakenings. But when the rEM took effect… after that first dose, you began craving nothing but sleep. Because then you’d dream of nothing but _him_.

You hadn’t been coping well in the aftermath of Romania, to say the least.

***

_The bright haze cleared slowly, revealing the North Sea horizon. It was a glorious dawn, a chill breeze blew across your face, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You closed your eyes, breathing in saltwater and fresh grass… and a familiar warm musk that blended into a soothing and refreshing scent._

_“I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself anymore,” his voice, worried as usual, ringing as clear as a bell._

_“It’s nothing compared to what I normally do,” you were hesitant to open your eyes, but you did slowly, the breathtaking ocean view still manifesting itself in front of you._

_“I don’t necessarily agree with what you normally do, either.”_

_“Well, good thing it’s not up to you what I do anymore.”_

_The feel of his strong arms, metal and flesh, wrapping around you from behind, leaning you backwards towards his very solid chest as his lips made tender contact with your neck. A shiver ran down your spine. “You sure about that?” you gasped slightly at the warm breath on your skin. It was intoxicating, and you prayed that the feeling would never leave you._

_“Wake up, doll,” he murmured in your ear. “You got company.”_

The loud knock on the side door made your sit up in your bed with a loud gasp; a sheen of sweat all over you. You were struggling to grasp on to the remnants of the dream, but they filtered away like smoke. You heard the knock again, and the familiar sound of a package being dropped outside.

Reaching over the side of the bed, your hand found a bottle, some brownish liquid still inside. Leaning back you downed all of it, trying to still the trembling in your breath. It – _HE_ – felt so real this time. The dreams were getting shorter, but more intense. Your supplier had warned you about that; taking too much was bound to mess with your neurological system at some point.

_It’s worth it._

“BaBs, perimeter scan,” your hoarse voice called out into the darkness, powering up your upgraded companion from sleep mode in the corner of your room. Tokyo had been kind to your old pal; you’d successfully re-programmed her, upgraded her enclosure for maximum protection, comprised of detachable parts and portable attachments, so you’d be able to work with her anytime, anywhere. BaBs was now a full blown A.I., though you’d carefully avoided the complete autonomy Stark seemed so cavalier in giving his own programs.

She’d come a long way from her small holo-screens, now able to show floor-length projections from wireless infrared cameras, in and outside your walls. Her applications further advanced than the original, BaBs went beyond tracking mere keywords, but also image recognition and biometric data, encrypting any and all communications sent to, and from, you. It was helpful when it came to seeking out the targets you were tasked with finding and getting the jobs done quickly.

_Right on schedule_ , you thought to yourself when you saw that a delivery bag, curated to fit your liquid diet, had been dropped at your door. You dragged yourself from your bed, your dream having been unceremoniously interrupted, and brought the bag inside. Opening up a new bottle, you sank down in a shabby loveseat, calling out to BaBs while multiple projections danced around your walls: “Got any new targets for me?”

***

Bucky sat at the edge of his bed, arm leaning on his knee, taking solace in his solitude, which he knew would be short-lived. This press conference he was being forced to attend was tensing his shoulders, making the nerve endings connected to his new prosthesis ache in discomfort. He winced, opening and closing his metal fist, flexing his muscles. The arm had been a gift from Stark, welcoming him to the fold after he had been cleared of all wrongdoing, pardoned by the UN, and declared a War Hero by the U.S. Government. He had been relieved, if not a little embarrassed, but he knew he had you to thank for it all. You’d given him a part of his life back… but the part with you in it was gone. And he missed it desperately.

He hadn’t blamed you. He knew you’d been meaning to get out of Bucharest since the beginning. He had been so relieved when you’d asked him to go with you. He wasn’t sure island living was meant for him, but he’d adjust, as long as he didn’t have to let you go. But then he did. And he hated himself for that.

It wasn’t until Steve pointed out the fact that you’d been the first to leave that the conflict within Bucky’s mind began. He had tried to look for you, but you were always one step ahead; further away from him.

If only Crossbones hadn’t intercepted him… The thought that you’d been only mere hours apart, that he had been on the cusp of no return, the Soldier almost taking over again, his memories of you being ripped from him…

He gripped his head with both hands. What he wouldn’t give to replace his brain, just like his arm. Keep the parts he wanted, take the Soldier out. But things didn’t work that way.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the voice of Stark’s A.I. rang out around him, interrupting his thoughts as he lowered his hands. “Your presence is required at Hangar Bay 12. The team is ready to go.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He sighed, glancing back at his metal fist. “I’ll be right there.”

***

Your target wasn’t far; he had just arrived through Narita fifteen minutes ago. He’d foolishly made reservations at a seedy capsule hotel close to an old Red Light District, and BaBs flagged him easily. You were in the middle of packing up your usual gear of stun batons, magnetized binders and pulse emitters, when BaBs began projecting a news report, covering the wall behind you.  
  


_“…the base was overtaken and a potential threat was neutralized, thanks in part to the efforts of the Avengers, in particular of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers…”_   
  


Your breath caught in your throat, turning sharply towards the wall. You blinked a few times, thinking you’d somehow fallen into another substance-fueled dream. There he was, looking awkward, shifting in place, behind Steve, his eyes seemingly looking everywhere but straight ahead.

You’d been walking towards the wall, closing the distance between you and the image, Bucky’s face magnified to about twice the size in the projection. You saw another man next to him, the Falcon, nudge him, and he finally looked straight ahead. There it was. That hypnotizing shade of blue that haunted your waking moments and filled you with bliss in your dreams. You lifted your hand, itching to caress the stubble-marred face in front of you… but just as your fingers touched the wall, the press conference ended, and the projection dissolved, his face vanishing from sight.

You leaned your head against the wall, eyes shut, hands grasping at the plaster for support, your knees feeling like they would give way with every gasping breath you took. Almost in a daze, you reached out for the nearest open bottle and took a long drink before sinking down onto the floor.

It broke you every single time. The life you could have had and the ache tearing your heart apart in pieces, making you realize he wasn’t yours. But you were his. He had you bewitched, under the influence of rEM, and liquor, and pain, and blue. You’d always be his, no matter how much you tried to run away, no matter how much you corrupted your body and soul. You knew he’d recoil from the way you dove deeper into your own despair. He would never know how much he destroyed you. _It’s better this way._

***

“I’m just saying, you gotta play the media game, man,” Sam followed Bucky out the Quinjet back at the compound, smacking him around the arm, drawing a quizzical eyebrow raise from him.

“Look. You smile,” Sam demonstrated with his signature smirk. “You nod,” he continued, Bucky now looking at him with exasperation, but amused nonetheless. “And then say–”

“I’m not a hero, I just play one on TV?” Natasha sniggered as she passed them by.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m not planning on more public appearances anytime soon,” Bucky clapped Sam’s shoulder with a smile, before turning towards the garage. They had come a long way from Romania, a definite kinship forging between them. Sam was perceptive, funny, smart… and while he hid behind a wall of jokes and sarcasm, he was just as vulnerable as Bucky was. All of them were. It wasn’t hard to find common ground with him.

“You’re not staying?” Sam noted, as Bucky headed towards Steve’s bike, packing up his gear. The threat of Crossbones still on the loose required Steve to stay at the Compound more often than not, so he’d loaned his motorcycle to Bucky to use for the time being.

“Nah.”

There was more he could have said. How overwhelmed he still felt about the constant attention that was on him now. It wasn’t so much the cameras or the press conferences. It was the questions. The salutes from other veterans on the street. The photographs enthusiastic historians would shove under his nose, the memories still not fully formed. The poisonous flashes of the Soldier that still encroached in the corners his mind.

His most recent mission, the one Steve had tried to talk him out of, but the pull of potentially getting to Rumlow, of ending it all, was too great. Walking into that base, pretending he’d been turned, having to act like like The Soldier… it was like putting on an ill-fitting costume, one that threatened to take hold of his flesh and mold to him if he wasn’t careful. It had been far too easy to slip back into old habits, gestures, motions… It had greatly messed with his head, more than he’d cared to admit. And at the end of it all, Rumlow had been nowhere to be found.

He longed for the soothing effect your mere presence had on him, for that anchor that made him more Bucky than Soldier. He was lost without you.

Sam picked up on all of it, a concerned look appearing on his face. “Take your time, but you know where to find us.” Bucky’s eyes flicked up to his friend’s, appreciative at his words.

Giving him a quick nod, he mounted the bike. “Keep practicing that media face, I don’t think you got it down just yet.”

Sam scoffed, “Get out of here, man.”

***

“I just wanted a good performance review!”

The capsule hotel had been evacuated a few moments earlier with a few gestures from you to the owner, giving you wide berth to locate your target alone in the common room and immobilize him without any issues.

“Yeah, pretty sure you can kiss that good-bye, dumbass,” you said as you binded him to a beam at the far end of the room. “You thought the NSA wouldn’t mind if you took work home with you?”

“Just take it!” He pleaded. “Take everything, sell it off, and let me go!”

“In another life, I might have considered it,” you shrugged, as you rummaged through the petrified man’s belongings, extracting the disk and documents belonging to your clients, and setting some low-pulse charges to destroy his laptop. “But I’m not doing this for the money.”

You’d hacked into the NSA way too many times already to care about their intel at this point. BaBs was able to access any database and root process in the planet at any given moment. Not a single byte of information wasn’t accessible at your fingertips now. There was only one mode of currency you were interested in these days, anyway.

“I’ll go to jail, please!”

You scoffed. “If you’re lucky.”

“How is this fair?!” You rolled your eyes at his whining. How in the hell did this guy get hired at the World’s top intelligence agency? “You’ve probably done worse things than this,” the man whimpered. He was trying, and failing to seem tough, but you knew he was terrified. Maybe not of you, exactly, but certainly of what the NSA would do to him once you delivered.

Untying him from the beam and securing his bindings, you dragged him by the arm upwards into a standing position, looking back at him from sunken eyes. “You have no idea.”


	22. Chapter 22

Needless to say, you were good at this. There was a sort of comfort at that. You picked your jobs, nobody knew how or where to find you, and you got the job done, quick and painless. It was better than building weapons for terrorists and crime lords. At least that’s what you told yourself. The sticky-fingered runaway from the NSA would get his… and considering his words had stung you to a degree, you were satisfied with that. As well as your payment. You’d forget what he even looked like by tomorrow, anyway. **  
**

Setting down the generous supply of fresh rEM vials down on a table, you grabbed two from the box, about to settle down for another night, when you saw a blinking prompt from BaBs.

You frowned; it wasn’t the usual alert you got when a new gig popped up. “Show me.”

A code, some sort of encrypted transmission foreign to you, showed up on one of BaBs projected screens. You’d set up her programming to keep an eye out for suspicious messages going through both usual and unusual intelligence channels. It’s how you’d maintained a good distance between you and wherever Rumlow or his network were.

“Run decryption sequence.”

It would take a few more hours, which made you even more suspicious. Whoever this belonged to had gone through a lot of trouble to make it untraceable.

You headed to the bar cart in the corner and poured yourself a drink. That bastard tech’s words were still hovering around your mind, _You’ve probably done worse things than this._

He wasn’t wrong. The more you tried to forget everything by diving deep into your dream world, the stronger it all just kept coming back. You thought it would get easier to bury it all and focusing on the only light you ever had in your life, but it was just getting harder.

_Maybe I won’t wake up this time._

You downed the drink and headed back to bed, throwing yourself down the rabbit hole once again.

***

_“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has been looking for you. Are you available?”_

He was currently in a bout of freestyle sparring with a punching bag at the Compound gym, drenched in sweat, but he barely registered it. Last night had been a particularly rough one and there was no telling what would happen if he slowed down. “Sure,” he called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y., not breaking rhythm.

He’d been regaled to a long terminology-fueled lesson from Tony about F.R.I.D.A.Y. the day after he’d moved into the Compound. He’d inquired about her processes, and Tony took his interest as his cue to show off every aspect of FRIDAY’s functionality within the Compound. 

He remembered your aversion to Stark’s software after Ultron. It had taken him awhile to get used to being addressed by a non-entity like F.R.I.D.A.Y., always feeling like she was just one more voice in his head, tracking him wherever he went, knowing his every move and anticipating every need. But now the A.I. had transformed into a sort of comfort, a part of the team, vigilant, cautious, and with everyone’s best interests at hand… as long as those interests didn’t conflict with those of her creator.

It wasn’t long before Bucky heard the gym door open and close, Steve’s familiar steps stopping after about four paces, and then just silence.

Bucky didn’t turn around, but he was the first to break it. “You just gonna stand there?”

“I can wait until you’re finished.”

“Gonna be waiting awhile,” Bucky moved towards a different sparring dummy. “My hearing is fine, I can multitask.”

He tried to sound conversational, but there was a definite edge to his voice that Steve did not miss.

Steve sighed behind him as he kept punching away. “Tony just requested your help for a mission. In Turkey.”

“What’s in Turkey?” Bucky replied, landing a roundhouse kick.

“The Turkish Academy of Sciences, apparently.”

Bucky stopped his relentless attacks on the dummy, breathing heavily and wiping of his face with a towel, facing Steve at last. The change in Steve’s stance made it clear that the dark circles under his eyes were noticeable. “Why me?”

Steve paused before he spoke again. “Who better than someone who uses his tech as a part of his daily life?”

Bucky snorted at that, heading back to the punching bag. A strong desire to hit something again was starting up. “So I’m a show pony, is that it?”

“It’s not infiltrating Crossbones’ bases, but it’s still good work.” Bucky scoffed again. He was getting tired of these appearances. Even now, he still had to prove himself. Hadn’t he done enough?

Steve shook his head as he went back to striking the bag with all his might. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Buck?”

“I already have a therapist, Steve.” His appointments had been a condition of his pardon. They had helped put things in perspective, had allowed him to embrace the fact that he was now an Avenger, that helping was better than doing nothing, and that there was a team that wanted him to be a part of it all. But the visits had become less and less frequent after Crossbones had popped up on their radar again. And while the doctors never pushed, there were certain things still lingering in his mind that he preferred not to revisit with strangers.

“Yeah, I know you do, and you haven’t been to see them in weeks.” He stepped closer to Bucky’s spot. “Figured I’d take a shot.”

“I’m fine.” Another pause. More punches.

“I’ll confirm with Tony about Turkey, then.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Each punch and kick was just another frustration he needed to let go of. The Soldier, dormant, but still waiting to strike; he could feel it. Crossbones, still in hiding, waiting for his moment to bring him out. You, lost to him, but haunting him all the same. If Steve hadn’t shown up in Romania none of this would–

_No._

He hated this rift growing between them. He knew Steve just wanted to help, make things right. He’d done plenty vouching for him during the pardoning process. And yet, the thought was always there, just like the Soldier.

Footsteps echoed towards the door, and Bucky suddenly felt the growing tension weighing him down as Steve walked away. He grabbed on to the bag, trying to hold steady.

“Steve.”

The footsteps stopped. Bucky’s voice was low, but so full of… everything. Pain. Regret. Fear.

“I’m here, Buck.”

He nodded. He knew that.

But raising his gaze to meet Steve’s concerned expression, he didn’t voice the thoughts he was afraid to admit to himself. He couldn’t.

“So…who else is going?”

***

_“You can’t stay in bed forever.”_

_“Just watch me.”_

_He was back, eyes brighter than the Sun itself, blinding you in a euphoric blur of contentment. His fingers trailed up your spine, and you sighed as a pleasurable chill accompanied his touch. This was all you ever wanted, even if it meant never waking up._

_“Y/N…” even the way he spoke your name, that husky whisper that invaded your very core… why would you ever want to let this go? “There have to be things you want to do… things you need to do…”_

_“I don’t need anything,” your eyes met his as a single strand of his chestnut hair fell across his forehead. You reached instinctively to brush it away. “Just you.”_

  
Your hand dropped on solid fabric, jerking you awake. Tears welled in your eyes as you realized your dream was over. Burying your face in your pillow, your hands clenching on the sheets, you tried to fight against the wave of anguish washing over you to no avail. It was getting harder and harder to let go of these rare moments of bliss. You knew it wasn’t healthy or even rational. Hell, it wasn’t even real. And yet you persisted, chasing the illusion rather than go back to the real thing.

_Only because he left you._

You shook your head in mute response, trying to push out the part of your mind that was insistent on making him the bad guy, on setting you free from your own self-flagellation and blame it all on someone else.

Novak. Pierce. Mihai. Cyrus. But you couldn’t add Bucky to that list. Not when you wasted away the days dreaming of him.

Your mind was your own worst enemy when you were awake and alert, and needing to drown it out with anything, you were about to dive into the end of another bottle, when BaBs beeped to catch your attention.

**DECRYPTION COMPLETE**

“Open it” you said weakly, desperate for the distraction.

_Rogers, Maximoff, Barton staying put. Barnes, Wilson, Romanoff en route to Izmir, meeting Stark. Shipment arriving at port…_

You took a long drink to quell the surge of anxiousness his name was bringing up. It was a log. They were dropping something off at the Port of Izmir tomorrow, and staying overnight… but why bother to encrypt this?

“Where did this come from?”

**ERROR**

“What’d you mean error?” You got off the bed and headed to the console. “Show me the grid.” BaBs opened up a command prompt, trying to hack into the channel communications grid and hopefully pinpoint a source manually. An hour and two empty bottles later, you kept getting booted off, your attempts yielding no results. You grabbed one of the bottles and threw one of them against the wall in frustration, standing up and pacing nervously up and down the room.

Someone was tracking the Avengers, and going to great lengths to keep it a secret. For all you knew there was someone on the inside who was out to get them, passing information on to someone else, Rumlow maybe…

_So what?_

You were out of this game. This wasn’t your world anymore; meddling in other people’s secrets is what led you to this vicious cycle of being burned, having to pick up and run and start all over again. There was no need for you to paint another target on your back. The only thing you really wanted was only a few vials of rEM away after all…  
  


_“Why did you clear my name, then?”_

_“I made a promise.”_

_The look of pity he gave you would have offended you if you weren’t desperately hanging on to his eyes for dear life. “It won’t make any difference if Rumlow gets ahold of me.”_

_He was right, of course. You sighed, breathing in his scent, wanting to memorize it before it was forced out of your lungs when you inevitably woke up. “I can’t save you again, Bucky. I’m no one’s saviour. ”_

_He smiled, and you swore your heart was melting in your chest. “How do you know unless you try?”_

***

“I could have flown myself there faster than this, y’know,” Sam grumbled, while Natasha piloted the jet.

“Oh, you wanna race? I’ll open up the door for you,” she replied with her usual tone of sarcasm.

“You hearin’ this, Barnes?” Sam called out.   
  
“No.”

Steve stayed behind with Wanda and Clint, going over Rumlow intel, and Bucky was still struggling to see how sending him, Natasha and Sam on this Stark PR stunt was even considered a good use of resources. 

Steve had chalked his mood up to his broken heart. But Bucky hadn’t really shared with his friend that he felt like the rest of him was breaking apart as well. Steve had always been the one good at keeping himself distracted. Bucky wasn’t that skilled at it.

He wasn’t running from the fight any more, but towards it, taking on missions as often as he could. Steve worried he wasn’t taking it slow enough, causing him to send Bucky on these worthless drop-offs and diplomatic meetings. As much as he tried, he wasn’t helping. And Bucky couldn’t find the strength to tell him. The fact was, the more Bucky did, the less he dwelled. Ironic that, after fearing he’d never remember, all he wanted now was to forget.

His last mission being the most challenging, he had embraced the opportunity to think of anything other than you. But a part of him was still holding out hope that if they dealt with Crossbones, you’d come back to him somehow, finally feeling safe enough to try again.

_Stupid._

You were gone. And everything was different now. He was different; mere words away from turning back into his worst nightmare, toeing the line before it happened again. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe it was better that you weren’t around for that.

_“Incoming transmission from Mr. Stark,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice broke through Nat and Sam’s bickering, followed by Tony’s face appearing on the in-flight monitors.

_“All right kids, turn the bird around, we’re going home.”_

“What?” Bucky said aghast.

“Tony,” Natasha’s wary voice, “We’re halfway across the Atlantic because of you, what’s going on?”

_“Oh, nothing I won’t tell you once we’re back at the Compound.”_ He wasn’t looking at them, busying himself with his phone. Bucky narrowed his eyes. _“You mind calling in once you get there?”_

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked indignantly.

_“Sleep. Duh. See ya.”_ And he was gone.

“What the hell was that about?…” Bucky muttered. 

“I swear I’ll fly this jet straight into his stupid Tower,” Natasha muttered, adjusting coordinates to take them back to New York.

“Can I at least pick the music this time?,” Sam asked, reaching for a switch on the flight console, but Natasha swatted his hand away.

“No.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys are liking this, ngl. More chapters uploading today! Love you--BJ

Your bout of goodwill towards the Avengers didn’t come without your doubts. Sure, Bucky – or your subconscious manifestation of Bucky – had a point. He always did know what it took for you to see a better way of being. His goodness, amidst the darkness that tried to surround him, was contagious, even after all he’d been forced to endure. It was something you could count on… even though they were only fleeting reminders of what he used to be to you.

But your sense of self-preservation was too strong. It wasn’t a stretch to think you’d be back on the Avenger’s radar again. On _his_ radar…

Would he ignore your demand? Would he look for you now, after all this time? You doubted it. Whatever you two had back in Romania was bound to be broken by now. He was a hero in the eyes of the world, you’d made sure of it. And you… you were no one.

Certainly not enough to warrant more than a few mentions of your name on his journal.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to drown that resentful voice out again… but the longer you tried to fight it, the more persistent it had become. Had it really meant nothing at all to him? That night before everything went to hell… it was the only moment in your life you had ever felt wanted, loved. You had been running those last moments with him in your mind over and over again: his pleading look before you’d left to make preparations, the way he tightly held on to you… Had it all been just a play? A way for him to get what he needed, to leave you behind before you did?

It hurt too much to believe it. It gnawed at your brain, it tore at your heart; the realization that seemed to follow you long before you ever met him. You had been running from it for so long, never giving it a chance to catch up, until now.

Everybody always wanted something from you… but nobody ever wanted you.

***

You descended down another fretful dream, upping your dosage in an attempt to escape from your own mind, and passing out without paying a second thought to BaBs… who was doing something you most certainly hadn’t programmed her to. At least not consciously.

Barb had originally been programmed for taking the processes you regularly utilized in order to better predict your operations. The more she tracked your movements, the better she worked for you. BaBs, being the upgraded version of Barb, had evolved beyond her regular capabilities, so repeating processes that matched terms and operations in her databank archives was second nature to her. And considering Barb had stored a wide array of keywords and references to Bucky and the Avengers in her backups, BaBs now felt it was her duty to continue tracking similar suspicious transmissions, such as the one you’d just sent through to Tony Stark.

Taking a cue from your previous actions, she opened up a communications channel with F.R.I.D.A.Y., meeting resistance at first, until Stark’s A.I. recognized the signature matched the previous encrypted transmission.

Unbeknownst to you in your rEM-fueled stupor, an understanding growing between the two entities; F.R.I.D.A.Y. leaving a door open for BaBs for any information she wanted to give her. Like BaBs, she had a sense of duty when it came to the Avengers, and your own faithful companion wanted them to know that you were on their side. You just needed a little push.

***

Bucky had hoped that upon landing he’d be able to slip away before anyone stopped him; ride out into the night, clear his head a bit before hearing whatever Tony had to say. Most likely they didn’t accommodate for his ego in Turkey and they’d need to reschedule. He wasn’t looking forward to another pointless briefing, and he wanted to keep his distance from Steve after their unresolved discussion the day before.

Unfortunately he had no chance of doing any of those things. Instead, as soon as he, Nat, and Sam made their way into the compound, they were summoned to the 3rd floor lobby, where Steve and Clint were already waiting for them. Nat sat down on a corner couch near Clint, and before Bucky could ask what was going on, they were treated to a rather unceremonious entrance by Tony.

He glanced up from his phone briefly at Bucky before saying, “When was the last time you spoke with your hacker girlfriend?”

“Tony,” Steve intervened sharply, but Bucky waved him down.

“She made it pretty clear six months ago that she didn’t want to be found,” he said, giving Tony a cautious look.

“Ah well,” he said, walking around a lounge chair and plopping down on it. “People change, I guess.” He pulled up a projection from his phone, sending it towards the large wide screen on the opposite side of the wall.

“I thought it was a virus that got past F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S firewall at first, pretty advanced encryption,” he continued. “But then I started finding more just like it.” On the wall they saw the messages logging the Team’s whereabouts at all times: when Bucky left the Compound, when Natasha left for missions, when Clint was with his family… The trip to Ankara that Tony had just cancelled mid-flight. “Someone’s tracking us, possibly sharing our whereabouts somewhere, but without the full picture, I don’t know who, how, or why.” 

“What does this have to do with…,” Sam trailed off glancing at Bucky, careful not to mention your name.

“Every great hacker has a unique signature, and our friend,” Tony emphasized that word with more sarcasm than necessary, “is no exception.”

“It’s not the first time she’s gotten into Tony’s wireframe,” Natasha said amusedly. Sam laughed, and Bucky fought off the smirk tugging at his own lips.

“You mean…?” Steve’s eyes went wide, as he suddenly made the connection. “She was the one–”

“Who sent the blueprints for the HYDRA-copter countermeasures, yeah,” Tony said, shooting a slightly annoyed look towards Natasha. “The question is,” he said standing up and walking towards Bucky. “Why start dropping these cute notes in my databanks now?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bucky replied dryly.

“See, I kinda think you do,” Tony said, now standing opposite him, his usual inquisitive look boring into Bucky’s inscrutable expression.

“Back off, Tony,” Steve stepped up towards the two men, who were now squaring off, neither even blinking away from the other.

“Why’s your ex stalking us, Barnes?”

“What makes you think she is?” Bucky glowered. “You just said it yourself, you don’t have the full picture.” He was trying to keep his cool, pushing down the slight glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you were trying to find your way back. To him.

“Maybe,” Clint spoke up this time. “And this is just a shot in the dark here, but maybe she’s warning us that we’re being tracked, and she’s hoping we’re all smart enough to figure it out on our own.” He was opposite Steve now, at the other side of Tony and Bucky’s standoff. “So, gentlemen. Are we?”

“I think we all know the answer to that,” Natasha said, standing up from the couch and commanding everyone’s attention with her mere presence, peering curiously at the information on the screen. “These uploaded to the mainframe, Tony?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We need answers,” she said, heading away from them. “There’s only one way we’re going to get them.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky’s expression was replaced with wariness.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, Barnes,” she waved her hand noncommittally. “I can take care of this.”

***

“Fuck, BaBs. _Why?_ ” You had your head in your hands, almost shaking from a combination of rage and fear. Never in your life did you think your own smarts would come back and bite you in the ass. Whoever they had looking at BaBs’ transmissions, they knew what they were doing, and had gotten way too close to tracing your endpoint location.

You’d closed off the channel to F.R.I.D.A.Y. as soon as you realized what BaBs had been doing, sending a clear message pinged from the last traced proxy; hoping they’d get the gist that you were through helping, that this was not the route for them to take:  
  
 ** _Stop looking._**

***

He wasn’t sure what Natasha hoped to find. More accurately, he was afraid of what she might find.

If Clint was right, and you were trying to warn them about a potential threat, you still hadn’t given them enough to neutralize it.

You must have weighed the pros and cons before you sent those transmissions. You’d always been the calculating type. Must have thought if you gave them any more, you’d be putting yourself in danger. Tony never was one to let people one-up him, much less twice, and he’d make it his own personal agenda to figure out how you hacked him this time.

Whatever your motivations were, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to believe they had much to do with him. He hoped Nat wouldn’t find you, for his sake… but The Soldier was aching for a confrontation. And it didn’t much matter with whom.

“We should be focusing on tracking down Rumlow,” he snarled at Steve. He’d found himself in one of the empty Compound’s conference rooms, hoping for solitude, but Steve had caught up with him at last.

“We are, Buck, but he hasn’t popped up on the radar lately, and whatever our feelings about this may be, she sent us a lead,” Steve crossed his arms. “We’d be stupid not to follow it.”

“By all means, follow it,” Bucky slammed his hands down on the virtual map counter between them. “But we should be following where it was supposed to go, not where it came from.”

“According to Nat, every byte of data she sent is encrypted in a complicated sequence, and rerouted through enough proxies and loops that it’s almost impossible to track. Nat’s having enough trouble tracing it back to its origins.”

“She’s wasting her time.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I do know that,” Bucky glared, his frustration at the entire situation, and the fact that none of them seemed to get it. “She won’t find her unless she wants to be found.” _God, please don’t find her._

Steve didn’t want his friend to lose hope. If there was a chance to bring you back, make things better for Bucky… You obviously felt that there was a threat looming over them. You had to care, right?

“She reached out, Buck. Isn’t that a good sign?”

Bucky let out a scornful snort. He really didn’t get it. “She knows more than what she sent. Just enough to…” He rubbed his face with his hands, before continuing. “She won’t resurface, definitely not as long as Crossbones is–”

He cut himself off, didn’t want to say more, his irritated rambling further blurring the line between him and the looming darkness.

But Steve wasn’t about to let it go. “Is that what…? You want to take down Crossbones. So she can come back?”

“That’s not… the whole truth.”

“Buck, we’re doing all we can, this isn’t just your fight alone–”

“Yes it is, Steve!” Bucky’s eyes blazed, a rage and fury in them he had only seen hints of. “He knows how to turn me, how to completely take over me and use me against all of you, against her, against me! He says those fucking magic words, and it’s over.” He got close to Steve, he could see his eyes darkened by something foreign, something not quite himself.

“You can fight it, Buck,” he said quietly. “That’s what I’m–”

“What you’re here for?” He was so close to blurting out the thought he knew he’d never be able to take back… but at that moment a beep from Steve’s cell seemed to clear his obscure expression. He exhaled sharply, attempting to calm down and regain his composure. Steve sighed, a hint of relief in his eyes as Bucky walked away, one hand wiping a sheen of sweat from his face.

“Buck, I need you to remember. Remember what we said. I’m with you ‘til the–“

“The end of the line, I know.” Bucky said, sitting down on a chair, leaning forward, his head low. “But where’s that line drawn, Steve?”

“Well, it wasn’t when you were the Soldier,” Steve said firmly, sitting down next to him. “And it’s not now.” He paused. “I hope?”

Bucky shook his head, miserably. “No. it’s not.”

A moment of silence fell over them. Steve took his phone from his pocket, the message alert beeping once more.

“What is it?” Bucky said, glancing sideways at him.

“It’s Nat.” he said, pulling up the message for both of them to see.

**_Got her._ **

***

You had to get out, if only for a night. The walls of your studio seemed to be pressing in on you, and not wanting to chance another euphoric dream clouding your perceptions, you ventured out into the cold night air.

While the chill washed away some of your anxiety, your anger remained. Not towards BaBs, she was only doing what she was programmed to, after all. But anger at them, at their persistence in wanting to get to you, only reinforcing your belief that you were only a tool to be used, no matter what you did. Simply sending the transmissions was not enough for them, and they only wanted more.

You should have known better.

The Western-influenced bar a few boroughs down was a novelty for tourists, a taste of home away from home. A DJ wearing a stetson played country music inside the darkened space, muffled by the old wooden speaker system. Vintage arcade games lined the walls not covered by pop culture paraphernalia.

You took a seat at the darkest corner of the bar, not drawing a second look from other patrons, and ordered your drink from the mustachioed bartender. You were in the process of downing your third drink when…

“Excuse me, do you know the WiFi password?”

You rolled your eyes once you glanced at the bar mirror; the redhead’s lips pursed in a well practiced smirk. Of fucking course.

“It’s ‘GO AWAY’. All caps.” you said, not a trace of humor on your face.

Natasha’s smile widened. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Worth a shot.” If it was anyone else, you’d have made a run for it. But you knew that trying to outrun the infamous Black Widow would be an exercise in futility. She’d tracked you down, after all. And it would be rude to leave your drinks unfinished.

“That’s some intel you sent us. Must have gone through a lot of trouble to decrypt and encrypt it. Mind telling me how you came across it?”

“Need-to-know,” you gave her a withering look. “That means not you.”

“Hard for us to take your word for it, then.”

“And you spent exactly how long to track me down and tell me you don’t trust me?” You signaled the bartender for a refill.

“Oh, it wasn’t easy. Even Tony was impressed.” The spy gave you a slightly pointed look as you drank deeply from your glass, but continued. “He recognized the signature on the encryption, matched it to those files you gave to Barnes six months ago… and from back in D.C.”

“So it’s a team effort to suck at following instructions.”

“I’m not much of a follower.”

“Could have fooled me.”

You both looked at each other for a beat, your anger growing by the second. You’d be damned if she was leaving here with anything more than your disdain.

She wasn’t budging though. “You’ve helped us before. You’re talented, resourceful. We could use that.”

“You people really know how to sweep one off their feet,” you glowered. As if you needed further proof that you were only ever a resource to be exploited. “Keep the flattery, I don’t need it.”

“Then what do you need?” she tilted her head. You knew this game. You’d had plenty of practice; first with Pierce, then with Mihai. Heck, you’d killed Cyrus for less. She hadn’t exactly been the only intelligence agent on SHIELD’s payroll back in D.C. Somehow she came out of that unscathed, but you hadn’t been so lucky. Time to turn the tables.

You relaxed your features and leaned towards her, Natasha mirroring your movements. “I need…” you began. She leaned in slightly closer. 

_Too eager, sweetie._

“… you to stay the fuck away from me.” 

You saw her narrow her eyes, as she leaned back again, regaining her nondescript expression. “We can’t begin to analyze the data if we don’t know where it’s coming from.”

“Well you’re out of luck, I don’t know that either.”

“But if anyone can figure it out, it’s you.” She crossed her arms, looking concerned as you gulped down the remains of your drink. “We need your help on this.”

You’d had enough. “I thought I was helping. Guess not,” you said bitterly as you stood up. “She’ll take care of my tab,” you addressed the bartender as you began to walk away.

“He needs you.”

Her words made you freeze where you stood.

“He won’t say it, but we all know it. He’d rather blame himself for everything than accept what happened in Romania wasn’t his fault.”

A fresh surge of fury rose up your chest. _Not his fault?_ “You saying it was mine?”

“You tell me.”

Inhaling sharply, you closed your eyes. As usual, you’d screwed yourself over. You never should have gotten involved. Doing the “right thing” always ended up being a mistake.  
  
“You still love him.”

The fact that she said it as a statement and not a question made you snap. You turned sharply, your eyes blazing rage towards the spy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Natasha’s eyes brightened at your reaction, and this only made you angrier. 

“Is he here too?” you asked. She didn’t miss the edge in your voice, and by now could tell that alcohol wasn’t the only thing poisoning your system. She shook her head slightly, not taking her eyes off you, taking note of everything, from the way your eyes darted around your surroundings, the twitching in your fingers, the pallor in your skin.

You bit your bottom lip, gauging your position. As long as he stayed away, no major damage had been done. It’d give you a chance to get out of Taito and off their radar again… but you had to shake Natasha off your tail first.

You leaned over with your hands on the bar, getting close to Natasha. “Get out of here,” you said, lowering your voice. ”Don’t follow me. That goes for _everyone_.”

“We both know he’s not very good at letting things go.”

You exhaled, frustrated and exhausted. Yes, you damn well knew it. You were both too similar in that regard. She was succeeding in making you lose your composure, and you couldn’t afford to let your emotions get the best of you right now. 

“Y/N, we can help each other if you just–”

“If I just _what_?” your eyes met hers. You were tired of this game. “Join your circus troupe? Solve crimes together?” you scoffed. “I don’t do teams anymore, you’ve all seen to that.”

She stayed quiet, observing you. Being well-versed in emotional warfare, Nat correctly identified the wave of emotions washing across your face: pain, regret, fear… and anger. At yourself, but also at a world that had done nothing but leave you behind at every turn. You weren’t just as broken as Bucky was. You had fallen off the deep end, and she knew it would take a miracle to pull you out.

“Leave.” it was as close to pleading as you were ever going to get. “I’ve done all I can. It’s better this way.”

***

Sitting down at the analysis console back at the Compound, Natasha looked over at the enzymes she’d scanned into the system from the traces in the glass you’d left at the bar. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was in the process of figuring out Nat’s hunch, when she heard heavy footsteps approaching behind her.

“You really know how to pick ‘em, Barnes,” she said, not turning around as F.R.I.D.A.Y. tested chemical compounds on her screens. “She’s a real piece of work.”

“Sounds like her.” Morose nostalgia was heavy on his tone.

“She’d fit in well around here. Damaged, neurotic, paranoid,” she finally turned around, a slight smile on her face. “I like her.”

He regarded her with his usual sober expression.

“Which is why I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with her.”

A flash of distress crossed his features. “Wrong with her?”

“She’s not doing so well, Bucko,” she said, holding his gaze. “There’s something… off.”

His eyes lingered on hers for a few seconds, before landing on F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s screens. 

A molecular combination had popped up, making Nat turn back to the console. “Sleep inducer, draws from the hippocampus’ spatial memory, long-term use can cause neurological damage…”

“She’s taking this stuff?” Bucky’s hands gripped the console table, eyes wide.

“I suspect she has been. For awhile,” Natasha’s expression turned grim.

Bucky’s eyes closed, his anguish palpable in the air. Were you putting yourself through this because of him? Trying to forget, just like he was?

“This isn’t your fault, Barnes,” Natasha said, warning in her voice, as though she could read his thoughts. There were times when he thought that was her superpower. “None of this is.”

“You think she believes that?” He said, turning away from the screen in front of him, exasperated. “Fucking around with her memories, you think she just came up with that idea all on her own?” He was pacing now, Natasha following him with solemn eyes.

“She’s been running all her life,” she said. “But we both know there are things we can’t run away from, no matter how hard we try.”

His face darkened, the shadow of The Soldier visible, just for a second, before giving way to a wave of panic. “What are you saying?” his voice shook ever so slightly.

Nat’s eyes were not unkind, but cautious as they peered into his. “I think it’s time you went to her, Sergeant.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some steamy stuff in here, but it's mostly just angst on angst, what else is new --BJ

Zola’s algorithm, originally designed to control and destroy, had been re-programmed towards a better purpose back in D.C, by you. You had then designed Barb to gather information, show it to you, and store it securely. It wasn’t exactly rocket science: you set the parameters, and she obeyed, evolving through machine learning and accommodating new needs and protocols that you may have potential use for. **  
**

BaBs’ ability to do what you needed her to didn’t require much upkeep nowadays, other than basic troubleshooting or key parameter changes once in awhile. While you dove deep into your alternative methods of distraction, you failed to realize that, during BaBs’ brief foray into Stark’s mainframe, she’d gathered archives, data, and parameters she didn’t have access to before. Due to her evolving nature, she had wasted no time implementing this new information, as she continued her search for the source of the Avengers log transmissions that she kept pinging, no matter how much you had tried to suppress it.

It was your fault, really. You’d made her too smart.

After the Sokovia Accords had failed to be ratified, King T’Challa of Wakanda had withdrawn his support once Bucky had been declared innocent, leading various other heads of government to follow suit. It was no secret that Thaddeus Ross was less than thrilled his government was still required to work with the Avengers. He wanted to control them, limit their activities, restrain their influence around the world. But he only got more soldiers added to their ranks, thanks to you.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but seeing the evidence piling up in front of you dropped a massive weight in the pit of your stomach.

Ross had been tracking the Avengers for weeks now. And sending the logs to Rumlow.

They might know about Natasha’s little visit from two days ago. You hadn’t heard a peep out of anyone since you warned her to stay away. But that didn’t mean you were safe. You still had the algorithm. And if they traced the Avengers back to you, they could use you again.

_Fuck._

Ross would give his left foot to deliver Bucky to Rumlow, besmirch his good standing by aligning him with HYDRA again. Your self-preservation was battling your conscience; should you share this or keep it to yourself?

_I just want to sleep._

You’d done enough. This didn’t have to be your fight. You’d already pointed them in the right direction once, even BaBs had tried to help on her own… but no. They’d got greedy, sent the spy to dig around and appeal to your humanity, to use you again and solve all their problems, risking your safety in the process.

_The fucking nerve. Give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Never again._

You made a mental note to remove all Avenger protocols and related keywords from BaBs’ archives. They could help themselves. You were done with them.

Setting BaBs for a full backup upload to your virtual servers, you headed out. One more gig, one more payment. And then you’d say good bye to Taito for good.

***

Steve had offered to take Bucky, making good on his promise that he’d be with him, no matter what. Natasha wasn’t naively romantic, but she had insisted that Bucky go see you, not giving Steve a chance to fight her on it. “We need her here, but it’s not going to happen while they keep hiding from each other,” she had said.

Meanwhile, Steve was wondering just how much longer his friend would be able to hold on to his own mind. 

Tony had set them up with a private plane, making sure the manifestos made no mention of either of them being on board. As Steve made his way inside, Bucky was already at a seat near the back of the plane, facing away from the door.

He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear another speech about friendship. He didn’t even want to think, but his mind was reeling with uncertainty. He had no idea how this was going to play out, and it terrified him to his very core.

Would you run? Come back with him? Or turn you away? Would any of it make any difference in the end? Natasha hadn’t elaborated much on your condition, beyond the fact that you’d been poisoning yourself for months in exchange for some sleep. He could relate; he hadn’t been much of a sleeper when he’d first met you, and not much had changed on that front.

Bucky’s mental disquiet didn’t fully register with Steve, though. He had his own clamoring thoughts occupying him. There just never seemed to be a good time to tell him. Tony had advised against it, considering Bucky’s current mental condition. _Maybe after the trip_ , he’d thought, holding out hope that he may not need to tell him at all, that you’d come back and everything would be all right. But the longer he held onto this secret, the worse the timing got.

Steve sat on the seat behind Bucky, letting him know he was near, not a word spoken between the two, but repeating them again in his mind.

_It can wait._

***

_Warm hand gently touched your cheek. As it traced your jawline, you couldn’t suppress a sleepy smile. How did he always know the perfect way to rouse you up? Your eyes fluttered open, faced with his, the beautiful blue hue that never failed to leave you breathless. You were addicted to him, however much it shattered your very soul once reality sunk in._

_“We gotta stop meeting like this, Sarge,” you mumbled with a smile, not wanting to disrupt the movements of his hand on you…_

“Like what?”

Your eyes snapped open, alarmed at the voice that seemed to come from outside your mind. The sudden realization that you were not alone made you instinctively reach for the stunner baton you always hid behind the headboard, but your hand only found empty space.

“It’s a bit of a hazard, don’t you think?” the low voice rumbled from the far corner of the room, followed by the sound of the baton being activated. The mere loud surge of electricity was enough to make your body tremble.

“That’s the point. Want to test it out?” You did not dare move from your spot, hair obscuring you from view, your hands holding on to the sheets, thinking if you let go, you’d float away. This is what your supplier had warned you about, the line between your dreams and reality had frayed enough… and you were terrified of what you’d see – or not see – when you turned around.

_Was this real?_

“Not why I’m here,” he said, a low hum followed as he turned off the device. His voice, so different than what you were used to, gravelly and rough. _This is all wrong_ , you thought, as goosebumps spread all over your body.

He scanned your unmoving hunched over form, both bewildered at the state you were in, and somewhat vexed at how far you’d let this consume you. Nat had been right. Even if you had bothered to throw out the empty bottles strewn around the room, he could still smell the liquor in your breath from where he sat.

This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. The worst kind, without the Bucky you’d surrendered to for months. Taking advantage of your clouded state, that ruthless part of your mind that fed on resentment was unstoppable now. There had been no grieving for losing him, for losing everything. Your body may have decided you wanted to forget, but your mind had other plans.

You slowly roused yourself, sitting on the edge of the mattress, bare feet on the floor, letting go of the remnants of your blue-eyed angel, and facing this darker impostor that sat still in the far corner of the room, watching you from the shadows. The stark contrast to the heavenly image you were obsessed with irritating you, filling you with a quiet rage that seemed to be growing without you realizing it. _How dare he sully your memories like this?_

“Why? Scared you’re gonna hurt me?”

You were lost somewhere within your own mind, while he fought against the entity invading his. And neither would win out without the other.

A sudden glare of light from the corner made you blink. BaBs, as though recognizing your late night visitor, was looping Steve and Bucky’s Smithsonian footage, the black and white videos of the two young men smiling and laughing projected on the wall.

Your breathing seemed to halt for a few seconds before you mustered up the strength to say “Off” out loud, making the projection vanish.

“You upgraded her.”

You took a few steps towards the bar, shooting a glare towards BaBs’ console. “Apparently not well enough.”

“Y/N…”

“I already told your friend. I don’t have anything for you.” You heard him stand and walk towards you, and your hands shook slightly as you filled up your glass.

“What are you doing?”

“Having a drink.”

A burst of rage shot through Bucky’s heart; not from the Soldier, though he fed on it greedily. Didn’t you understand that the more of you that you destroyed, the less of him there would inevitably be left?

“You’ve had enough,” he made to grab your hand, but the mere graze made you flinch, and you recoiling from him was so much more than he could bear.

Drawing heavy breaths, you turned away from him. The touch had been minimal, but sharp just the same. You’d been covering yourself with cold detachment, and his physical warmth now felt foreign to you.

It’s not supposed to be this way. But as much as you tried, there was no waking up from this.

“I told you to stay away.”

Dark shadows danced across is eyes, his hunger for you fueling his suppressed self. He needed you… and the Soldier knew it; was counting on it. “I told you… I wasn’t ready to let you go.”

The flash of a memory stung your nerves; soft sheets, peace… home. In your present state, you hated everything about it. You had no home, except while you slept, and he’d come to take that away from you, too.

“And yet…” you turned and faced him, your anger giving you an irrational, reckless courage to face up to the source of your anguish. You spread your arms out, bloodshot eyes wet with unshed tears, dark circles giving you a gaunt, haunted appearance. “Here we are.”

Bucky stepped closer to you, radiating that boiling heat that made you wince, as his eyes scanned you, attempting to sniff out the thing that had corrupted you; his only source of salvation. You backed away, but he kept getting close, until you found yourself pressed against the wall, avoiding his gaze, though his face was now inches away from you, his body impossibly near.

“Is that what you think I did?” Bucky said in a chilling whisper that made you shiver in the midst of the furnace-like warmth now in front of you. He grabbed your arms in an attempt to steady you, make you look at him once more. As your your eyes snapped back to his, trying to wade out of the haze in your mind, you saw they were now a darker blue than ever.

This wasn’t your Bucky. The one you’d been dreaming about for months, the light, ethereal version of him… it wasn’t him. There was something else. Between your intoxication and your distress, you couldn’t help but let out a light amused laugh. “Oh… _He’s_ still in there, isn’t he?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide, and for a second, the blue lightened a few shades. Of course you would recognize that his past life would still be haunting him today. You were the only one that had ever understood, would recognize the shadow that always lingered, and was now feeling its way out of containment.

“Did I do that?” you continued, tilting your head, throwing yourself at this nightmare now, emboldened by the fact that you weren’t the only one whose mind was crumbling. “He’s stronger now… I can see him.”

His heart quickened. He was at the edge of a steep ledge, wanting to let loose, embrace the darkness within you both and sink down into it. No more fighting; losing his soul was a fair price to pay if he could spend eternity in hell along with you.

He was inching closer to you, maybe just a taste of you bring you both back from the abyss…

“Is that why you came here?” your voice halted him, a sliver of space now between you. “So I could save you from yourself? Keep the big bad wolf away?”

“Y/N…” the way he said your name was gruff, desperate. You loathed how raw it sounded.

“Tough luck, Sarge,” you hissed. “I have my own demons to deal with.”

He glared. “You mean that shit you’re pumping yourself full of, how’s that working out for you?”

Both of you were breathing heavily now, barely holding on to what little self control you had. He should know better than to corner you like this, doing nothing but justifying your desperate outrage. You’d warned all of them, told Natasha to stay out of it, and yet, here Bucky was, pushing you further into your wretchedness. He would fail this particular mission, and you’d make sure of it.

“He’s just aching to come out now,” you were baiting him, and Bucky knew it. “How long do you think you can keep him at bay?”

Bucky shuddered, maddenly terrified at the horrible truth you were now indiscriminately blurting out in his face. “I’m about to find out.”

Without warning his lips crashed into yours; the kiss hungrier, savage, and bolder than you ever felt before. His fingers crawled over your face, tangled in your hair. You pulled at him, pressing him closer to you. There was no turning back from this.

Glass clattered and crashed on the floor as he swept the top of the bar clear with one arm, sitting you on it with the other, and again his hands were all over you, his low growl palpable with desire matching your soft moans of pleasure at his electrifying touch.

No, this wasn’t a dream. This was better. This was a wild, aching need, and no drug or liquor or dream could match it. It was not what you needed… but for the moment it was exactly what you wanted. You could feel the Soldier creeping through in Bucky’s need of you, and in your inebriate exhilaration you wanted him to go down into the depths along with you.

But he pulled away, his eyes searching yours. “Please come back to me,” his hands on either side of your face. You gasped, missing his lips on yours, the temporary euphoria from his embrace now giving way to the reckless bitterness that had taken permanent residence in your mind. You let out another laugh as he continued, “I can’t fight this on my own.”

“Always with the favors,” you leaned your head back against the wall, pulling away from his touch, a morose smile appeared on your lips for a fleeting second before your face twisted into a snarl. “You guys can’t get enough of them.”

In his confusion, the Soldier peeked through the blue once again. “Come with me, Y/N.”

More talk. You were tired of it. “Go home, Avenger. You got your fix.”

Bucky’s face went white, and you quickly averted your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to take the heartbreakingly agonizing look on his face as he realized you weren’t looking to be saved. And you weren’t going to save him either.

Somehow, in just a few minutes, he’d lost both you and the part of himself that was keeping him alight with hope. “This was a mistake,” he muttered to himself, cursing Natasha for telling him to come here, that he needed to see her. All it had done was crush his being to dust, his despair now feeding the growing malevolence of the Soldier within him.

He had to get out of there. He turned to go… but then you spoke his name.

“Bucky…” it was soft, a long-forgotten melody wafting in the air. He paused, before turning to look at you. You were still sitting on the edge of the bar, leaning back, looking slightly upwards. _Broken_.

He had a sudden urge to carry you out of this den of misery you’d made for yourself, take you away from all of it… But he’d just be bringing you into his own realm of darkness. You were both too far gone, him just as broken as you. There was no chance at his redemption, no way to stop the Soldier from taking over him again.

You turned your head slowly towards him before you spoke.

“Why hasn’t Steve told you about Wakanda yet?”

***

_It’s not me you need right now._

Bucky held on to your words as he made his way back to the Quinjet. A dim light, but it was the only hope he had that you still believed you’d come back to him. It reigned in the Soldier further down, clearing his mind and allowing him to think.

They had ambushed you, he knew that now. He feared he’d lost you forever and had been naive to think that months of heartbreak would be resolved in one night. But you weren’t truly lost. You’d come back to him in time. You cared enough to tell him how to get rid of the programming that plagued him. Which was more than he could say about Steve right now.

As Bucky saw the blonde waiting for him by the jet, every frustration, every moment of pain and hidden resentment he had been suffering through for weeks washed over him.

“How could you?” he blurted out, pushing Steve up against the jet, a slight dent showing up from the impact. “All this time, you knew how to get rid of this _thing_ in my head? You knew?!”

“Buck, stop!” Steve pushed him off, but Bucky couldn’t help himself and swung at his face. Steve leaned away from it, catching his fist, and twisted his arm behind him, pushing him forward. Bucky shot his legs out, sweeping Steve off his feet and holding him down, hands grabbing hold of his shirt, pure rage on his face.

“First you mess with my life in Romania, and now this? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Buck, I’m sorry!” Steve’s wide eyes were on his friend’s, his hands up in defeat. “I was going to tell you–”

“When?!” Bucky shook him, ignoring his friend’s wince as his head hit the ground. “When it was too late? When I turned and murdered half the compound?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, I thought– if she came back with us, then–”

“Well I did,” Bucky seethed, finally letting go of him. “And she’s not.” He rolled off him, sitting on the ground, breathing heavily. Steve sat up slowly, eyes on Bucky’s defeated form.

“Buck, I’m–”

“You’re going to tell me… everything,” Bucky said, his voice low.

“I should have told you a long time ago. I kept coming up with excuses… I screwed up.”

Bucky let out a dry laugh, Steve’s startled expression meeting his. Looking dejected. Bucky sighed, “Well, that makes two of us, I guess.”

***

It took you awhile to even move from the bar top after Bucky had left. You weren’t sure if you were trying to commit to memory everything that had happened, or simply trying to forget each moment, compartmentalizing, dazed and unmoving.

Everything about him was so different. But then again, so were you. Your dreams, while offering you a safe refuge from your doomed reality, had never prepared you for this sordid reunion, for his darkness meeting your grief.

You’d given him a new life, but it still wasn’t good enough. The Soldier wouldn’t let him revel in his new life, how far he’d come. He could run, but he couldn’t hide.

_It’s not me you need right now._

In your stupor, you barely registered BaBs alarms. The console was beyond annoying you now, seemingly doing her own bidding rather than yours at this point.

“You didn’t even tell me Bucky got in, what could it possibly b–“ your annoyance was halted by the images on your walls, a masked figure leading three others around your building.

Rumlow.

You stumbled, almost falling over your unsteady feet, as you rushed to BaBs. He couldn’t get his hands on her. You wouldn’t let him. There was only one thing you could do.

Reopening BaBs’ link to F.R.I.D.A.Y., you began uploading everything on Ross and Crossbones’ network. Looking over your shoulder at the wall, you saw they were inside the building. It was only a matter of time.

You ran a command to have BaBs self-destruct once she’d uploaded everything. “I’m sorry, girl–”

The force of the door blasting off its hinges pushed you onto the floor. Rumlow, flanked by his entourage, emerged from the cloud of smoke and dust, guns aimed straight at you.

“No running this time, sweetheart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you met his gaze as he took off his mask, and for a second you thought your reality was warping in front of your eyes again. Half of his face seemed to be melting away, and you gasped unwittingly at his grotesque appearance.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, is it?” he growled.

“It’s not exactly an improvement, if you ask me.”

His eyes flashed red, and you braced yourself for the worst. This was it; your moment of truth. You wouldn’t lead him to the Avengers, you’d stall him for as long as you could. If this was how you went out, you’d be defiant until the last second of your life.

A flash, sparks, and smoke from the corner console. BaBs was done. It was finished. You smirked, turning back to Rumlow. “Looks like you’re out of luck, too.”

He pushed his gun to your forehead, looking down at you, as he tilted your face up. “You’re good with your hands,” he sneered. “Build another one, or you die.”

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly. This was never going to end. Until he pulled that trigger.

“Do it.” Strengthening your resolve, you pushed your forehead against the gun, Rumlow’s eyes widening in surprise. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

“Sir,” one of his guys approached him, a small box in his hands. “We found this.”

His expression went from wrathful to curious, as he scanned the contents and pulled out a small vial, turning it over in his hand. Putting two and two together, he glanced back at you. “Nothing but bad habits with you, huh Y/N?”

You glared at him, as he motioned for the two other men to take hold of you. Standing you up by the arms, you tried to struggle, but Rumlow stepped close to you, gun at your throat. “I don’t beg,” he hissed at you. “Last chance.”

“I’d rather die.”

He smiled malevolently, the man holding the rEM approaching him. “I’m sure you will… eventually.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gear up for more angst, bad medical lingo and neurological speak that I googled (not a doctor). --BJ

“Did everyone else know?” **  
**

“Only Tony. And the King.”

“How long?”

A pause. “A while.”

Another pause. “Why, Steve? Why would you let me…? You knew. You _knew_.”

Steve sighed. There was no excuse, he knew it. He’d spent so much time searching for his friend, his brother… the man he’d blamed himself for losing, even back in 1945. He’d been desperate to bring him back from HYDRA’s clutches in D.C., he thought it was his responsibility. By the time he’d found out Bucky was in Romania, he was adamant that he would not lose him again, he would do everything in his power to bring him back. Bring him home.

He hadn’t counted on Bucky having to rely on anyone else but him. He hadn’t counted on you.

Shortly after Bucky’s public pardon, he’d spoken to King T’Challa; Tony joining the conversation as they posed the inevitable problem that was the Winter Soldier’s re-emergence. They’d began working on a procedure that would be able to repair and regenerate organs in the temporal lobe, and the King’s sister, Shuri, had made great strides in her experiments. There was a cure, and it was in Wakanda. And he didn’t tell him.

“I know I had no right,” Steve said hesitantly. “To keep this from you. But the more I saw you struggle with… everything – it may seem irrational, stupid even.”

“It was stupid.”

“I didn’t want to lose you again, Buck,” Steve turned his head slightly. He couldn’t see Bucky’s reaction, but he felt his eyes on the back of his neck. “There’s no telling how long the procedure will take, there are still variables that Shuri needs to take into account –”

“Then it was my choice to make, not yours,” Bucky interrupted, his voice rumbling with suppressed anger.

Before Steve could reply, a signal came through on the Quinjet’s P.A. “Tony?”

_“Hope you’re not too far out, pretty sure you left something.”_

“Goddamnit Tony, again?” Bucky blurted out, his irritation getting the best of him.

_“If I’m correct – and I usually am – Mini-Snowden’s not on board.”_

Steve detected a slight urgency in Tony’s sarcasm. Re-setting coordinates on the jet, he asked seriously, “What happened, Tony?”

_“Got some more info from her… a little more than we bargained for.”_ He sighed before continuing, _“Sorry Barnes, I think Rumlow got to her.”_

Bucky’s entire expression darkened, a deep pit settling in his stomach, bubbling with red hot fury. “Steve?”

He knew. “Already on our way, bud.”

***

Your body twisted and twitched on the floor, among the rubble and ruins of your studio. You felt as though you were seeing it contort below you, your consciousness floating above in the dust. But a part of you, a weaker but nevertheless stubborn part, tugged at your mind, snapping it back to your gasping breaths and convulsions.

Your head was on fire, clamoring for you to relinquish control, to descend into darkness and give in to sleep. But you knew if you did, there was very little chance of you coming back from it. You’d drown in nightmares and warped realities, never escaping the one that you’d been running from for years: you were worthless, discarded, and abandoned, left to die in your own madness once and for all.

Your eyes rolled back in a mixture of both pain and elation. _Isn’t this what you wanted? Sleep, not redemption?_ Even at the edge, your mind was still at war. _Defiant to the last._

But you weren’t about to let go just yet. You’d heard them; Rumlow and his men were still after Bucky and Steve. They’d taken just enough of the rEM to use back at their base, and if they got to Bucky with a concentrated dose, they’d be able to turn him. They’d pumped you with enough of the stuff to severely damage your temporal lobe, but there were multiple possibilities if applied to, not just one, but two super soldiers. “A test run,” Rumlow had said, as he watched you writhe in agony before taking his leave.

As far gone as you were, as forcefully as you had pushed Bucky away, the thing you wanted most was for him to have his life back.

You fought against your frayed nervous system, forcing your body to obey your thoughts, pulling yourself towards the table where BaBs’ ruined enclosure sat. Mustering as much power as you could, you brought down your hand down on a wood plank, making it rattle in place. You tried again… again… until it finally shook itself free, bouncing out of the floor. Sweeping it aside, you stuck your hand into the opening, your fingers shaking, until they found what you were looking for. Closing your fingers around the small device felt like gripping a fistful of needles. Crying out in pain, you pulled your hand out, holding one of the portable remote attachments you’d outfitted BaBs with.

It felt like hours, tapping keys posed a difficult challenge as you tried and tried to input commands and failed repeatedly, your hands breaking free from your force of will and your vision blurring rapidly, but you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. _Not yet._

It wasn’t until you saw the boot up screen light up and project itself on the ceiling, that you finally felt yourself breathe. With a sigh, you let yourself roll over on your back, a slight smile on your face. “BaBs… grant Admin Access… to James Buchanan… Barnes.”

The last thing you saw was the prompt **ADMIN ACCESS GRANTED** on the ceiling, Bucky’s face looking down at you, as you sank down into nothingness.

***

“Y/N!” Bucky felt his heart plummet as he rushed to your still body on the floor, “No no no no,“ he kept repeating, trying to feel for a pulse; it was there, but thready. Your fingers twitched every so often; you were alive, or at least part of you was. Next to your outstretched hand was the handheld device you’d activated, still projecting his image on the ceiling. In an act of desperation, he said out loud to no one in particular, “What happened??!”

As commanded, BaBs’ remote backup loaded up the last few minutes of the security feeds; Rumlow breaking in, threatening you, forcing vial after vial of rEM down your throat. “ _Fucking bastard_ ,” he snarled, taking the device from the floor, and throwing it to Steve. “Can you get Nat to access what’s in there?” He lifted your limp body onto his arms, trying not to look at your pale face, refusing to believe you were a lost cause. He’d already made that mistake once tonight.

Steve’s grim expression alternated from the projections to Bucky’s arms. “Is she–”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sidestepping the debris, his face matching the bleak look on Steve’s face, and for a second he could see the glint of the Soldier peeking through once more. “But she doesn’t have much time.”

***

_“Are you happy now?”_

_“I could do without the ‘I told you so’s, you know.”_

_You felt weightless, not knowing if you were moving of your own volition, or being moved in any specific direction. A bright white haze enveloped your surroundings, and as you turned involuntarily, there Bucky was._

_“What else am I supposed to say?”_

_You sighed, impossibly frustrated yet entranced by his stunning face once again. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”_

_As you turned again, he stood in front of you, closer than before, the cerulean in his eyes brightening as he scanned your face. “I just need to know, if you’re ready. For what’s next.”_

_You frowned. “What’s next? I’m here with you, aren’t I?’_

_You found yourself turning once more, and now he held you close, his hand brushing your cheek slightly as he leaned into your ear with an ominous whisper, “I’m not the only one in here, doll.”_

_He began to evaporate, the haze turning to smoke, and you could smell ash as it darkened your vision until you couldn’t see him anymore._

_“Bucky!… BUCKY!!!”_

***

_“Bruce is at Seattle for a conference, head there,”_ Nat’s voice guided Steve. _“Me, Clint, and Sam will meet you as soon as we can, Tony’s on his way, he’s already clearing out a whole wing at the Center for you guys.”_

“Got it,” Steve said, switching off the speaker, but Nat beeped his private comm line.

_“How’s he doing, Steve?”_

He pressed his lips together, as he glanced towards the back of the jet. Bucky was crouched next to your unconscious body, making sure the straps on the stretcher where you lay were secure. For the first time ever, Steve couldn’t get a read on his expression. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve so long ago, his eyes bright and full of life. Now it looked as though that spark had been snuffed out, as he tried not to let his eyes linger too much on your sleeping face, not wanting to betray even a sliver of emotion.

“I don’t know, Nat.” Steve said sincerely. “I just don’t know.”

_“She’ll pull through,”_ there was a tightness to her voice. _“I know it, Bruce will do everything he can.”_

“I hope it’s enough. I don’t think he’ll make it if she doesn’t.”

***

_“What a shame.”_

_The cold, gruff voice behind you was unmistakable. Your back tensed up, feeling chilled to the bone, but as you turned around, you were not at all surprised to see the impeccably dressed Alexander Pierce in front of you, enveloped in a cloud of smoke and ash._

_“All that talent, wasted away.” He shook his head. “You didn’t have the stomach for it.”_

_“It?” you bristled at the accusation. “You mean murder? Genocide?”_

_“Order,” Pierces eyes narrowed, morphing almost into slits, and you thought you saw a red gleam within the piercing blue. “You would have thrived at my side.”_

_“You used me!” you felt yourself tremble, but you could barely see your own body as the ash and embers now encircled you too. “You didn’t care about me, you left me to die!”_

_You tried to breathe, but you inhaled nothing but smoke. As you coughed violently, Pierce’s figure seemed to vanish in front of you, swallowed up by the grey clouds. You peered through the haze… until you felt a shadow looming behind you, and turning quickly you barely held back a scream as Pierce’s face, contorted and twisting, melting away appeared mere inches from you._

_“Self preservation, Y/N,” his voice now shrill and booming around you, overwhelming your senses. “You should know it always comes with a price.” He disappeared in a blast of white light, and you felt yourself pushed backwards into darkness._

***

Bucky shook his head, dazed from the crash, a few feet away from the Quinjet; a massive hole on its side. As he pushed himself off the floor, he saw you lying inside, tangled in the belt straps, the top part of your body dangling off the jet’s bay doors. With a groan, he tried to get to his feet, wanting to get to you, but a heavy arm wearing a massive gauntlet grabbed him from behind in a tight headlock.

“Not so fast,” he recognized Rumlow’s voice in his ear, as he attempted to push him off. “We have unfinished business, _Soldat_.”

Out of nowhere, Steve’s shield collided with Rumlow’s back, forcing him to release Bucky with a grunt, and he turned to see the source of his undying hatred. With a snarl, he activated his electromagnetic gauntlets, at the ready for a fight. “Just in time, Cap! Wouldn’t want you to miss the party.”

They were surrounded now; eight of Rumlow’s men circling them all, weapons at the ready, not a single space for them to escape. Bucky was crouched down on one knee as his eyes kept darting towards you. Flames had started rising around the jet, but there was no way for him to get to you just yet.

“You know what I’m in the mood for, fellas?” Rumlow called out, his voice full of wrathful mirth. “A good ol’ fashioned brawl. Mano a mano.” He started walking around Steve and Bucky, as the former tried to help his friend up on his feet. Rumlow stopped right in front of them, standing between them and you. “I’ve been _longing_ for a reunion.”

Bucky’s vision went black for a millisecond, falling back down on his knees. _NO_.

Steve swung his shield out at Rumlow, but guns started firing all around them, and it took all his attention away from Bucky’s shaking form as he tried to subdue the agents. Rumlow took Steve’s absence as an opportunity to get closer, but Bucky swung his metal arm out in rage. “You missed, you _rusted_ sack of shit.”

Buckling under the infectious force of the Soldier that was now awakening, Bucky could feel it stronger than ever. The impulse, the intent, the violence. And through the darkening haze, he could barely make your limp figure out from behind a darkening cloud of smoke. He thought he saw your arm twitch, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything right now.

“ _Seventeen_!” Rumlow circled him again, now dropping all pretense; his aim was to turn him, control him, and destroy everything that Bucky had been fighting for. “ _Daybre_ –”

The blast pierced Bucky’s eardrums, the force of it pushing him backwards onto the ground. Through the haze, he saw you, aiming a miniaturized sonic thruster at the spot where Rumlow had stood moments ago. And with a sigh, you leaned over it, unconscious once again.

“ _Y/N!_ ” Bucky shouted, about to run towards you, when he saw a jet stream of flame-retardant solution fall down onto the jet, extinguishing the flames from above. Tony flew by in his Iron Man suit, knocking out the two men left that still engaged Steve.

Sam landed next to Bucky, and helped him up his feet, as Nat and Clint rushed past them to your side.

“They got her,” Sam said, tightly shaking his arm in relief, watching the two spies untangle you from the mess of straps and buckles that held you captive in the jet. “We gotta deal with this.” He gestured towards Rumlow, now groaning on the floor, and Bucky followed his gaze, blue eyes narrowed and face contorted in fury.

Both walking towards their enemy, Bucky grabbed one of Rumlow’s gauntlets off the floor, and without hesitation, activated it and aimed it straight at his face, knocking him out cold.

“Well, that was easy,” Sam said, as Bucky threw the gauntlet down. Breathing heavily, he was about to turn away… but then with a low growl, he landed another blow to Rumlow with his metal arm, blood spurting from his nose.

“He’s already out, you know.”

“Just making sure.”

***

_“I hope you don’t think that’s enough.”_

_You turned around in circles, trying to find the source of the voice. The deeper you receded further into your own mind, the less in control you were. You had no say in this place, you were only a ghost of your former self._

_“Who are you?”_

_“One good deed doesn’t absolve you.”_

_“I’m not about to get much of that in here.” You couldn’t help your biting response, but saving Bucky from Rumlow, whether it had been real or in your head, had given you a slight reminder of why this was happening to you._

_“You won’t get it at all.”_

_The blood-stained face of Gunther materializing in front of you made you gasp, your piercing cry of terror echoing around the walls of your subconscious._

***

“Her brain activity is off the charts, inflammation of the hippocampus…”

“I see scarring in the temporal lobe, she’s seizing…”

“We need to bring her heart rate down…”

Bucky’s eyes were unblinking, his hands pressed up against the glass, as he watched a crowd of nurses and Bruce Banner try to stabilize you. A hand on his shoulder made him jump slightly, and he saw Steve’s reflection on the glass, looking grim.

“You don’t have to be here for this,” he said. “Bruce won’t let her out of his sight.”

Bucky sighed, attempting to control the bursting well of emotion flowing through him. He didn’t want to leave, but watching you in this state…

“I never should have left, Steve.” he said scathingly, his temper growing towards himself. He’d been such a coward; afraid of facing up to your reality, the hell that you had been driven to. You hadn’t been able to fight it on your own, and even then you had still bothered to give him the solution to ease his own torment. You never really had stopped trying to save him after all… but he had given up on himself. And without realizing it, he’d also given up on saving you.

“You can’t blame yourself, Buck,” Steve’s stern tone reminding him of days long ago. He always had tried to play the tough big brother, even before the serum. “This was Rumlow. Not you.”

Bucky was spared from replying as Natasha approached the pair. “We’re needed for a briefing with the President. Ross has been detained.” Her eyes met Bucky’s briefly, her expression softening. “She’s not going anywhere, Barnes.”

With one last glance at your body, now quite still, your face gaunt and eyes closed, Bucky allowed himself to be led away from you. If he was going to try to make amends, he could start by acting like the hero you’d made him out to be.

***

_“Who’s next?!” your bravado came across as more of a shrill cry. You were terrified; your mind was actively playing with you, tormenting you and bringing forward every bit of the past that you’d been trying to hard to run away from. Bloodied faces, victims of your misdeeds, fire, rubble, and suffering… and the one face you wanted most to see was nowhere to be found. They had finally taken away your last refuge of peace, for good._

_“Come on!” you shouted, holding back tears. “Is that all you got? I’ve done plenty of shit, I know you’re not done throwing it in my face!”_

_You could hear your own voice echoing around you, and as the grey haze started thinning, you could finally see your hands, outstretched in front of you. Perplexed, you looked around, but saw nobody. And then it hit you._

_There was no one. They’d all gone. And you were left alone in your despair once again…_

You were still alone when you felt yourself sit up, eyes wide and gasping for air.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! (well, there's an Epilogue) Even reposting this on here is making me re-feel all the feels. Longest episode by far, but it's what a proper Finale deserves. A million thanks to everyone for reading, i love you --BJ

You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking. Disoriented, your eyes scanned the room you were in. You were sitting on something soft; a bed. The room was darkened by blinds on the windows to your right, a dim light peeking through glass on your left. Everything looked gray, and through your panic, you thought you were still trapped in the deep recesses of your mind.

Looking down to your trembling hands, you saw a needle poking out of your left, felt wires tugging at your head, hooked up to a device next to the bed. With shaking limbs you pulled at them, off your head, blood trickling down your hand as you yanked the needle away, and tried to crawl off the bed you were in. This was just another nightmare, and you needed to run before the next ghost of Christmas past came back to haunt you further.

With a shriek, you fell to the floor, your disobedient legs refusing to hold you up. Tears stung your eyes, but you were determined not to let them obscure your vision further. Forcing your arms and legs to move, you grievously began dragging yourself towards the door, until you heard rushing footsteps approaching from the other side, and saw it flung open.

“No!” you yelled, shutting your eyes, and trying to cover your ears; if you didn’t see them or hear them, you’d be fine, they wouldn’t hurt you with their stabbing words and grotesque faces. But without proper control of your hands, you were only hurting yourself. Hands gripped your wrists as you flailed every which way, and you felt more hands hold on to your feet, as they tried to lift your body off the floor. “NO!” you kept shouting.

“Y/N, you can open your eyes” the voice was firm, but kind. Your mind had been played with so much, you didn’t trust it. This was how it was; it would try to lure you in with promises only to plague you with your own demons.

“Get away!” you roared, trying to fight against both the hands that attempted to still you and your own uncontrollable limbs.

“We have to sedate her, convulsions are getting worse.”

“Get a propofol drip set to 50 micrograms per minute, now.”

“Y/N, you have to try and relax, sweetie.”

Sounds of objects clattering around you, metal crashing to the floor, and yelps of people being in the line of fire overwhelmed your senses, as you screamed and fought against every force trying to restrain your body into submission, tears now running down your face as you realized this was one nightmare that was not ending anytime soon.

***

Steve and Natasha stood on the opposite side of the glass, concerned looks on their faces, as they saw your movements slowly desist, your head finally lolling back on your pillow as the sedatives took effect. Bruce was checking your pulse and brainwaves, and a couple of nurses were wiping sweat from their foreheads, looking each other over for injuries.

Bucky stood a few feet down the hall, facing away from them and the glass, arms folded and head hung low. _Coward_ , he scolded himself. It wasn’t until your screams subsided that he spoke up quietly, holding back tears, “Is it over?”

***

_The muted dull hum around you should have been making your head throb, but it wasn’t. It was a soft reprieve from the loud cacophony of pain from your nerves being torn and frayed. It calmed your senses, and the red-tint hovering around your peripheral vision seemed to cool your stinging eyes as you blinked through the gray light in front of you._

_But a presence you did not recognize was near… you could feel it. It was strong, it was powerful… and it terrified you. You turned around, and could barely see the fading silhouette of a girl, enveloped in that same red-tint glow, before she disappeared._

***

You awoke with a start, the red glow dissipating from your eyesight, and a sense of familiarity hit you as you took in your surroundings. Hadn’t you been here before already? The grey room, machines beeping around you, needle in your arm…?

You wanted to roll your eyes at the lack of creativity from your subconscious. If this was the best it could do, you’d probably exhausted every memory you had by now. Except for that girl… you didn’t know who that could be. Your mind was now making things up as it went along, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried by that.

A knock at the door made you frown. You hadn’t expected your brain to ask for permission before torturing you. Your hands were still shaking, so you clasped them together tightly, trying to make them stop.

A dark-haired man with glasses, wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard peeked in, hovering by the doorway. “Y/N?”

You furrowed your brow, grasping at your memory. You’d seen this man before, but you had no recollection of meeting him or interacting with him in any way. So why was he in your head?

“Is this real?” you said slowly, eyes not wavering from the man, not daring to hope that your mental torment might finally be over. “I don’t know you. Are you real?”

“Um, yes, I am. I am real,” he stuttered, as he took off his glasses. “May I come in?”

Warily, you nodded, though your head made a small involuntary jerk to the side as you did so.

“My name is Bruce. Bruce Banner,” he said, nearing your bed. You felt yourself shiver, and held on tighter to your own self.

“You’re an Avenger,” you said, swallowing thickly as recognition hit you at last. “I’ve seen you on the news.”

“Yeah, I don’t usually look like _this_ on those things,” he chuckled, gesturing at himself.

“Are you… the only Avenger here?” you asked, your breathing catching in your throat, and failing to keep yourself from trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t even that chilly, what was wrong with you?

“Here, let me help you with that,” he moved cautiously to the IV drip connected to your hand and adjusted something. It slowed your movements, making you feel as though you were stuck in a speed slightly faster than slow motion, but the shivering stopped altogether. “This may make you a little woozy. Your nervous system is somewhat… damaged. The convulsions are to be expected, especially when you’re undergoing massive detox, but…”

“Detox…?”

“And, to answer your previous question, no. I’m not the only one here,” he fixed you with a knowing look. “Is there… anyone in specific you want to see?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Yes, there was someone… but the last memory you had of him was just a swirling cloud of tangled, agonizing emotions. A massive headache began throbbing at your temple at last, and you winced at the pain. “Maybe not yet,” you mumbled.

Bruce nodded in understanding. He moved towards a chair near your bed, taking a seat, as you observed him with trepidation. “Well, no one else has to be here. Not if you don’t want them to.” He looked tired, but he still regarded you with kind eyes. “If you want to sleep for awhile I can–”

“No,” you said sharply. “I mean, I don’t want to sleep.” Your eyes kept darting around the room, taking in everything around Dr. Banner, but he kept his eyes on you. “You can stay. If you want to,” you continued, but then scoffed at your own words. “Don’t see why you would.”

You felt fragmented; not being able to rely on your mind or your body to do their proper functions anymore. You were at the mercy of others now, whether you liked it or not. Your worst nightmare, now a reality.

“I’ll stay,” Bruce said, finally drawing your gaze from the anxious thoughts that now troubled you. “As long as you want me to.”

You weren’t sure why, or maybe you did and you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself just yet. But at his words, tears started rolling down your face, and you didn’t see the point in wiping them away.

***

You couldn’t sleep. You didn’t trust yourself to.

_This must be what Bucky felt like back in Romania._

The constant fear of your subconscious building up warped block after block of your past, taunting you and breaking your resolve, making you regret, but never forget, was too much to handle. Being awake was a struggle as it was. There were times when you didn’t recognize words being spoken to you, moments that you didn’t remember. They’d told you that you’d played a part in taking down Rumlow, but when would you have done that?

Bruce had tried initially to explain what the excess rEM Rumlow gave you had done to your brain functions; a lot of complicated talk about the prefrontal cortex and hippocampal circuitry, but you got the gist. You knew what faulty tech looked like. You could see it every time you looked in the mirror. Your circuits were fried. _Useless_.

They’d said it had been almost a week since you’d been brought in. Rumlow and Ross had been secured in the Raft prison, and Steve and company had been busy rounding up the remains of Rumlow’s network around the world, or so you’d heard.

Bruce had stayed by your side, adjusting medication and monitoring your progress. You hadn’t spoken about seeing anyone else, and he hadn’t pushed it. It was just the two of you, in your bubble of peaceful isolation. Nurses and therapists would come in and out sporadically, changing sheets, bringing clean clothes and food, recommending treatments, but they never stayed long. It was stable, simple. You could deal with it.

But you were no Avenger. You didn’t belong here, and you knew Bruce would be called out at some point. So what would happen to you then?

“I appreciate everything you’ve done, don’t get me wrong, but… am I leaving at some point?”

“Do you want to leave?” he said, looking up at you from your chart.

“I…” You’d never been posed with that question before. It had always been a given that you never stayed put in one place for too long. Rumlow was history, and you were safe, for the time being. But you were of no use to anyone in your state, so why would the Avengers even care if you recovered or not?

“Y/N?” Bruce’s soft voice brought you back from your preoccupied musings. You swallowed hard. An overwhelming feeling of being lost was consuming you, and you weren’t sure if it was the medication or your mental state that was making you feel slightly nauseous.

“I don’t know.” You looked down to your hands. The tremors had subsided significantly, and Bruce had started weaning you off the restraining solution, but your fingers still twitched involuntarily from time to time. You squeezed your hands together. “I don’t really know anything anymore.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re all going to have to leave here at some point,” he half smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. “This isn’t exactly our base of operations, and Tony’s going to have to buy half the hospital at this rate.”

That only made you feel worse. So they were wasting resources on you after all. You’d already given them given them everything, what more could they want from you?

Stark. He probably had you right where he wanted you now. Helpless, defenseless, and under his control. He’d gotten everything he wanted since that first time you hacked into his servers, and now he’d make you show him how you did it, make you pay for selling his tech around the world. This wasn’t any different than if Rumlow had taken you.

“He should have just killed me.” you muttered, not realizing that you’d said it out loud.

Bruce’s eyebrows knotted at your words. “You don’t mean that.”

Slight shame flushed your cheeks, as you kept staring at your hands. “If you had a choice, between being someone’s prisoner or no one’s, which would you choose?”

“You’re not a prisoner here, Y/N.”

“Maybe not here,” you looked around the room, before looking him straight in the eyes. “But you don’t think Stark’s just going to let me go with a pat on the back and a bag full of meds, do you?”

He sighed, not breaking your gaze, his eyes trying to break through the defensive wall you were now trying to rebuild around you. It was pointless, you’d done it a million times before. He didn’t give you an answer, but you both knew you didn’t need one.

***

True to his word, Bruce had stayed by your side, and kept visitors away, save for one instance. As much as you tried to fight your biological need for sleep, your eyes eventually drifted shut, as the haze of medication and exhaustion overtook you. Bruce took the opportunity to go brief the team on your condition; he wouldn’t leave the room otherwise.

But it wasn’t long before a familiar presence jerked you awake, to find a wide-eyed red headed girl standing at your side, and you briefly saw that red-tinted glow from your dreams slowly weave and dissipate between her fingers.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing?!”

“My name is Wanda,” the girl stammered, and you detected a hint of a European accent, as she kept her hands up and visible to you. “I… I am just trying to help.”

You sat breathing heavily, keeping your eyes fixed on her. “Is this Stark’s plan?” you snapped at the girl. “Start brainwashing me in my sleep, when I can’t put up a proper fight?”

“That is not what–”

“What’s the matter, didn’t get enough out of me last time?”

Wanda’s eyes slightly widened; she obviously hadn’t expected you to recognize her from her brief foray into your subconscious. “Your mind was in agony,” she said, her voice low, keeping a cool composure that even you were impressed at in your fury. “I simply altered the pain, muted it. I can’t read minds, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, your fight or flight instinct hindered by your inability to move properly. “Does Bruce know what you…”

“Bruce has a theory,” she began, shooting you a cautious look. You gave her an approving nod before she took a seat next to you. “I don’t know how much you know about my… abilities, but he thinks –“

“You can get into my mind and fix what’s busted.” you said bluntly, your eyes narrowed already. You figured it was just a matter of time; you wouldn’t help them, and they couldn’t keep you here, so they’d start wielding the superpowers, beat you into submission. A sharp pang hit you straight within your heart, wondering if Bucky knew about this, or worse, had agreed to it. “What makes you think you can?”

“From what Bruce has explained, your nerve endings were slightly damaged from the neurotoxin in the rEM substance you were taking. Couple that with the alcohol poisoning, and your perceptions of reality within your mind are askew. I can try and bridge the frayed gaps, give you a chance to recover, with minimal pain.”

“And if you can’t?” it was difficult to keep the harshness out of your voice. “If you go in there and instead of fixing anything, you end up making things worse?” They were just playing with you now; you were just a thing to experiment on, your feelings and well-being be damned. What did they care if you ever walked again, or were able to eat solid foods again, or sleep soundly for more than just a few hours? You were already damaged, what’s a few neurons less?

“I feel I need to make this clear to you,” Wanda’s comforting eyes zeroed on yours, filled with rage and pain. “I can only alter reality, mass and physical space. I am no doctor, but I can help make what’s happening to you a little easier to bear. That is 100% me, I want to help you” she took a deep breath, looking around, as though she wasn’t supposed to tell you this next part. “But I also know what it’s like to be used as a prop, as nothing more than an experiment, against my will.”

“Then why–?”

“Steve Rogers gave me a home. Tony Stark protected me when the world called me a liability. I have lost people too… but in the Avengers, I found a family, at a time when I had lost my own.”

There it was; the family speech. “I haven’t had a family in a long time.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself have one?” You scoffed. “I know there’s at least one other person who’s desperate for that to happen.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to level yourself out; her words making you shiver again.

You couldn’t do this to him. The whole point of everything you’d done so far was for Bucky to move on with his life. He’d been with them long enough to understand what family is, but you? No. This wasn’t for you at all.

When you finally spoke, you’d already made up your mind. Meeting Wanda’s gaze, you began,”I know they’re making you do this, and I appreciate you being honest with me. But I think I’ll stick it out the… non-enhanced way, if that’s all right.”

She kept her eyes on you, as you struggled to keep your calm, noticing the slight twitching movements you kept trying to subdue. “Are you sure I can’t–”

“I’ll be fine.”

She regarded you for a moment, not believing you, but knowing that your pride was the best defense against the torment building up within you. She nodded and stood up to take her leave. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t try.”

“No, you can’t.”

Wanda turned at the doorway, looking back at you. “I’m sorry.”

You tried to smile, but you knew it was half-hearted at best. “I know.”

Turning away and off down the corridor, she didn’t see your face transform; your eyes blazed, narrowed, darkening your features, a torrent of pain, anger and disbelief at what had just transpired clouding your face. They’d taken your freedom. They’d taken Bucky. They had BaBs now. And they’d take your mind, decaying as it was, away from you too. If you let them.

Pushing the nurse’s call button, you took a deep breath, trying to still the tremors and relax your face into anguished meekness, as a nurse stopped at your door. In your best trembling voice, you implored to her, “Can you help me get to the bathroom, please?”

***

“She needs time to process, she almost essentially lost her mind, Steve.”

“I understand that, but it’s been a week, we’re being hounded for a briefing and there are questions that still need answering.”

“I’m not one to agree too much with you, Cap’n, but I could do with some answers myself,” Tony’s voice joined Steve and Natasha’s, though Bucky was too lost in his own thoughts to pay much attention.

With your handheld device in his hand, the one that now housed BaBs’ core functions, he stared at the screen, prompts eagerly awaiting orders from its new owner. You’d left this for him, made sure he had full access to BaBs, because if there was anyone else in the world that you could trust to put her to good use, it was him. She trusted him too; it’s why she hadn’t raised the alarm that night he came to see you. Even at the edge of your life, you were still giving all of yourself away to him, still trying to save him. Were you ever going to stop?

“… there’s processes here that are directly incongruous with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s functions, and as much as she seems to be enjoying the company, I can’t have someone else’s tech crowding my own.”

“Bruce doesn’t think she’s ready to dive back into all that, Tony,” Natasha spoke up. “She doesn’t trust any of us, she can’t even trust herself right now..”

“Bullshit,” he shot back. “She managed to upload her… whatever it is, into my servers just fine while she was hopped up on memory juice.”

“She was desperate, what did you expect her to do?” Bucky looked up at Tony, face dripping with disdain.

“I don’t know,” Tony said defensively, “But she’s alive now, at least. Thanks to us, by the way. You’re welcome.” Bucky scoffed at him. “I think that warrants an IOU.”

“Well, I wouldn’t wait for a ‘Thank You’ note if I were you, Tony,” they all turned to see Bruce enter the room, and tossing the files he was holding on a nearby table.

“Bruce?” Nat noticed the look on his face; an intermingling of exhaustion and exasperation, but mostly a sense that he was about to do something against his better judgement.

And it didn’t escape Bucky, either. “Where is she?” he stood up from his spot, a menacing look beginning to show on his face.

Bruce sighed. “I’m discharging her.”

“You what?!”

“Bruce–”

“Why the hell–”

“Not right away, so before you jump down my throat,” Bruce held up his hands to quiet down the loud clamoring form the others, “hear me out.” Bucky was already halfway out the door, when Bruce held out a hand to stop him. “You don’t want to do that right now.”

Bucky bristled, leaning in close to him. “And why not?” he seethed. “You’re just going to let her go on her own, brain damage and all?”

“It’s what she wants,” Bruce matched his gaze, not backing down. Just like Bucky had a demon living inside his mind, Bruce had an entire being within, built out of pure rage. He wasn’t easy to intimidate, and Bucky recognized that. He slowly backed down, folding his arms across his chest, but not taking his eyes off Bruce.

“I don’t care what she wants,” Tony spoke up, his turn now to gang up on his friend. “She’s unbalanced, an accessory to over a hundred crimes in the past five years – that we know of – and we can’t just let her go. She’s coming back to the Compound with us.”

“So you’re going to what, Tony, put her in a cell and grill her endlessly while she slowly goes insane?”

“She won’t let you do that, no matter how hard you try,” Bucky said, his heart sinking as he realized what Bruce was saying.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Clint’s voice made them all turn to him, as he skidded into the room, Wanda close on his heels. “She’s not in her room and her things are gone.”

Tony wasted no time tapping his glasses, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a perimeter scan.”

“How did this happen?” Natasha said in a low voice, approaching Clint.

“Nurse didn’t know what hit her,” he muttered back. “Y/N may not be at full capacity, but she’s been running long enough to overtake a tired nurse on the night shift without any problems.”

“I think I scared her off,” Wanda mused, her troubled eyes downcast as she wrung her hands anxiously, Clint shaking his head comfortingly at her.

Bucky looked down at BaBs’ device, and an almost involuntary reaction made him speak into it, “Pull up East Wing camera feeds.”

BaBs obeyed, projecting images of orderlies and nurses pushing carts and chatting down hallways. “Scan biometrics matching Y/N.”

“Wait, how did you get into the hospital’s feeds before I did?” Tony said awestruck.

“There,” Steve pointed at one of the projections, your familiar frame heading out an elevator on the East Side main entrance.

“That was almost 20 minutes ago,” Bucky said, a grim but determined expression on his face. You’d already ran from him once. Not this time. Not like this. “Spread out.”

***

The courtyard featured the grandest-looking garden you had ever seen. It veered off the main entrance, and took up a good three and a half acres of hospital property. Fir trees, sculptures, and varied plant life covered the grounds, some of them with small nameplates saying who’d generously donated them to the cause. It was brightly lit, giving your surroundings an ethereal glow contrasting with the dark sky above you. There was no other word to describe it, but magical.

You knew you wouldn’t get very far on your own two feet. You’d realized your escape attempt was futile before you got on the elevator, almost tripping over a wheelchair as your mind tried to go right, but your legs went left. Still, you were surprised security hadn’t subdued you by the time you hit the double glass doors, and had gotten as far as you had. _Guess I still got it._

Your legs gave out from under you in time for you to catch yourself on a stone bench nearby, your exertion bringing with it a fresh wave of pain to your joints, the throbbing in your head back with a vengeance. _Guess not_.

You sat, holding on to the seat, closing your eyes against the chill night air, willing it to numb your senses. You were feeling too much.

As if on cue, you heard footsteps approaching cautiously, as one would approach a wounded bird to avoid scaring it away.

“You guys aren’t very good at this,” you said, not bothering to turn around. It didn’t matter who it was, anyway… right?

“Security’s not what it used to be,” Tony Stark’s voice made you sigh. Not who you were expecting. _Hoped for, you mean._ “Wasn’t hard to find you with your own tech, though.”

“Yeah, I seem to keep doing your own work for you lately.” You didn’t have the usual bite in your retort.

Tony let out a throaty chuckle. “You’ve done a lot more than that, if I recall correctly. Building weapons with my tech, stealing data from my personal servers – “

Time for another unsolicited speech. “Shouldn’t I have a lawyer here for this–?”

“– _And_ saved our hides more than once,” he cut you off. “As a couple of Super Soldiers keep reminding me. Won’t let me forget it, in fact.”

You kept your eyes closed, feeling the sting of tears to come, you held them back as you could. It simply hurt too much to move, to think… to feel. 

You didn’t see Tony turn around and wave the rest of the team back inside. Steve clapped Bucky around the shoulders, his eyes lingering on your back as he was, once again, led away from you.

“They seem to like you, more than me anyway,” Tony kept going, taking a seat next to you. “They’re a good bunch, a little trusting at times. It’s why I keep tabs on them and the people around them. I want to protect them.”

“From me?”

“From anyone who doesn’t have their best interests in mind.” You opened your eyes slowly, but kept your head down. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised you haven’t asked to see Barnes yet, and while his default setting is ‘brood’, I know he’s wondering why.”

You let out a long exhale. “You don’t get it.”

“I think I get it, very clearly.” His tone changed; it was slight, but you could detect the edge there. “I’ve done the wrong thing many times, more than I can count, pushed people away because I thought it was the right thing to do.” He took a breath, as you stayed unmoving next to him. “But whatever I do, whatever mistakes I make, I own up to them. And you’ve got a lot of owning up to do, my friend.”

“You want me to own up to shit?” you replied, not even bothering to stop your hands from shaking anymore. “I’m not a fucking hero, Stark. And my ‘superpower’?” you scoffed as you raised your hands up, the shaking getting more violent by the second. “What let me get into your servers in the first place? That’s gone.” You let your hands fall on your lap, clasping them instinctively, a tear splashing on your fist. “My life is over. But Bucky just got his back. He still has a chance.”

“So do you,” Tony said without missing a beat, but you didn’t react. “God, you two really are meant to be together; a couple of sulking smartasses.” Rolling his eyes, he stood up. “If it counts for anything, for my part, I’m willing to put my knowledge on the line and help rebuild your brain.” You stared at him bewildered, as he held out his hand with a shrug. “Call me a hopeless romantic. How about it?”

***

Your hands shook as you poured water into a glass. Bruce had suggested you try to exercise both your mind and body by practicing mundane tasks like these; working the coffee machine, folding shirts, rinsing dishes out. While he and Tony worked out the details about your supposed plan of recovery, they were adamant that you try and exercise your mind and body as best as you physically could. Bruce had insisted that he at least be satisfied in your capacity to fend for yourself, not giving you much of a choice.

You’d been moved into a suite with as many amenities as you could need, but you weren’t solely confined to it as the room Pierce had had you in back in D.C. Unfortunately, that meant there was an open door policy in place, and you couldn’t hide from visitors anymore.

Your brain may have been damaged, but you weren’t stupid. You knew they were stalling, hoping you’d reconsider, give them a chance to convince you that going back with them was better than just running on your own again. You just didn’t see the point. You’d told them that you didn’t want to see anyone else, tried to explain to Bruce that you were desperately avoiding attachments – one in particular; it was killing you from the inside to do it, but you knew you had to sever it.

How had it all gone so wrong?

“Good to see you’re up and about.” The voice startled you, and you ended up spilling water all over the countertop. In an effort to not let the glass fall on the floor, you ended up sweeping it with your arm into the sink, where it cracked upon impact. Holding on to the counter’s edge, you sighed, not turning around, but feeling the concerned eyes of Steve Rogers on you, nevertheless.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine.” You hadn’t meant to sound so hostile, but you were more frustrated at yourself than anything. At least you didn’t have to deal with broken glass on the floor, you’d already broken half the set from the cupboards. “You’d think they’d give me styrofoam cups at this rate.”

“Can’t live on safety nets alone,” he replied, in his usual tone of wisdom. “Bruce said–”

“I know what Bruce said.” You said, finally turning around, leaning back on the counter, but avoiding his eyes. “I’ve heard all the speeches. Unless you have a new one you want to try out.”

He chuckled, but you didn’t detect any actual humor in it. “No speeches,” he said as he leaned back against the wall. “Just here to talk. Or listen.”

“Got plenty of doctors here for that.” Your eyes darted everywhere else, except on him. A trick you’d adopted during your stay; don’t make eye contact, constantly avoid making connections with anybody.

“You sound like Bucky.”

_Clever_. His name on his lips rendered your trick useless, as you instantly locked eyes with Steve. There was that freedom blue, full of intense morality, ready to judge between right and wrong. You felt yourself transported back to that elevator ride at S.H.I.E.L.D. once again.

After a beat, you managed to look away, buckling from his gaze. God, you were useless. “How is he?”

“He wants to see you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Ok, he’d be better if he could see you.”

You exhaled sharply, anger beginning to edge into your annoyance. He wanted to play hardball? You could do that, too. “Or, maybe he’d be better if you hadn’t lied to him.”

“Now you _really_ sound like him,” you heard him mutter.

You shook your head; this was not a conversation you wanted to have with Captain America, of all people. You weren’t friends. Who would want you as a friend right now? Who would want you as anything, really?

“What am I supposed to do here, Steve?” you turned your back on him, tears threatening to fall. “I’m a mess. I’m broken, I… I don’t _work_.” The tremors were back, and you held on tighter to the countertop, pain coursing through the tips of your fingers. “I have nothing – _nothing_ – to give him right now.”

Folding his arms, he fixed you with a mollifying expression. “Y/N… take it from someone who’s screwed up enough across, not one, but two lifetimes: you’ll regret it every day of your life if you run from him this time.”

“I already regret it!” you said brusquely, not daring to let go of the countertop, fearing the trembling would spread all the way down to your legs, unsteady as you were. “I’ve regretted it every single day for half a year, Steve. But I’m not the same person I was back in Romania, and neither is he. He doesn’t need me, he can go to Wakanda, get his life back… be happy.”

“He won’t be, as long as you’re out there.”

“Then he can forget me!” you snapped, a bit louder than you intended as you turned and faced him, breathing heavily. “They can get me the hell out of his head, along with HYDRA’s _bullshit_!” You didn’t mean to do it, but it still felt appropriate; the jug of water flew off the counter, crashing a few feet away from you on the floor, but from your own forceful movement, you ended up losing your balance and crumpled on the floor.

The tears were unstoppable now, your sobbing inconsolable, as Steve knelt down in front of you. There was that chivalry again, ready to lend a helping hand if it was ever needed. Bucky had that too, it was embedded in their bones. You didn’t.

“Y/N…” Steve said softly, through your cries. “You don’t have to be alone anymore, not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t deserve him,” you whispered through your tears.

“Neither do I.” You looked up at him through tear-stained eyes. He carried that same heavy burden on his face, the one you recognized from your first ever meeting. Did that ever go away?

“But he’s more stubborn than you and I put together,” Steve continued. “He’s still my friend, no matter how much I screwed up. He’s not about to give up on you.” Fixing you with the most nurturing look you’d ever been given, he held out his hand. “Neither will I.”

Your sobs subsiding, you looked at his hand for a moment. It was the second hand someone had held out to you while you were here. You raised yours, slightly trembling, and he closed his fingers around yours, steadying you. You gulped, trying to defy the strong wave of emotions washing over you, but unable to ignore it. They were tenacious, you had to give them that. “I thought you said ‘no speeches’.”

He smiled, shrugging good-naturedly. “Nobody’s perfect.”

***

It wasn’t long before it was time to go. Tony and Bruce had worked out an experimental procedure, assisted with Wanda’s powers and a few neurosurgeons from the hospital, and they felt optimistic. Tonight, you were alone in your room, packing for the trip to the compound in the morning, too anxious for sleep or company. The events of the past few days had left you in an overwhelming daze; still not believing that the Avengers just wanted to find a cure. For you.

You opted for being cautiously skeptic about the whole thing; there hadn’t exactly been a discussion about what would happen once they high-fived each other in the aftermath of their success… or buried you if they failed.

You were zipping up your bag, when you felt it. That presence that still haunted your dreams, the one that you’d been longing for but had not prepared for. The outline of his shadow crept over you, and it took everything in your power to not shiver uncontrollably.

You turned slowly, and saw him out in the hall, on the other side of the glass-pane, slightly illuminated by the hallway lights that surrounded him in a steady glow. Bucky was unmoving, his eyes on you, calculating his next move. You moved closer to the glass. There always seemed to be something standing in the way of the two of you, of your happiness, and now it was more palpable than ever. Fear.

His cowardice at your plight; your fear of abandonment, now transforming into an even more terrifying possibility. What if none of it worked?

_What if this really was goodbye?_

Like an old habit, words weren’t needed; you simply looked at each other in suspended time, taking the other in, until Bucky couldn’t stand it anymore. Refusing to let his eyes stray far from you, he made his way towards your door.

You didn’t know if you were ready for this. You shut your eyes, trying to keep yourself grounded but it was getting harder by the second. _Just breathe._

His scent hit you instantly. How could you forget it? It was embedded in every fiber of your mind by now. When you opened your eyes, you could see his pale reflection on the glass, standing right behind you.

“I just wanted to say goodbye.” His voice was soft, low.

“I guess I owe you that much.” you were fighting off your shaking hands again, and longed desperately for his to touch you, bring you down from the chaos of your mind, quiet it like the empty hallways of the hospital.

“You don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” His eyes matched yours, intensely trying to communicate wordlessly what he was feeling at that moment. That he loved you so ardently that he would acquiesce to your every whim, your every want. That whether you asked him to stay at your side forever or not, he would dutifully obey. That he had never stopped being yours, just like you had never stopped being his.

You sighed, a whisper of a humorless laugh escaping your lips. “What a pair we make, huh?”

He took a step closer to you; amidst the smell of anesthetic and sanitized plastics, your hair still smelled as wonderful as it did back in Romania. “M-hmm,” he agreed. “Stubborn.”

You turned around finally, face to face with his broad shoulders, his weathered face taking your breath away for a moment. “Damaged,” you murmured.

“Beautiful,” his hand cupped your face as he kept closing the space between you. Your trembling ceased instantaneously, as though a switch had been flipped, your nerves solely focused on his warm touch. _Was this real?_

You took a deep breath. “Buck–” but he didn’t let you finish as his lips met yours, deep and soulful, as though feeling you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but fall into him. The electricity that was missing from that night in Taito was now surging through you stronger than ever, the warmth and soft caresses of his fingers on your face soothing your pained nerves as you let him deepen the kiss, taking in his breath, his tongue, his very soul.

You both pulled away simultaneously, gasping for air, but not letting go of one another; each asking wordlessly for permission before it went any further, but neither wanting to let this moment pass by. This very real, tangible moment. Could it really just be this way? Start again, as though no time had passed, none of the bullshit, resentment, anger and pain present in either of you anymore… Did it really matter, in the end?

“Stay with me tonight,” you finally managed to whisper, ghosting against his lips as he breathed you in. He could practically hear the multitude of thoughts that you were trying to suppress, your eyes saying all the words that you couldn’t yet voice out loud.

“Always,” he said, the blue in his eyes shining all the more brighter, as he stroked your hair. All the feelings that had been pushed to the depths of his mind after the Soldier’s near resurfacing, all of the memories of you and him together back in Romania, were flooding his entire being. Leaning in to kiss you again, his strong hands never leaving you, he guided you back to him, towards the dark hole in his heart that had never filled back up in your absence. Back home.


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIGH. thanks to everyone who found this story on here, I loved writing this. From me to you, here's my little final nod. Love love love you all. --BJ

“And how is our friend back in New York?” T’Challa said, walking through the front doors of the Palace, leading Steve towards a lift in the middle of the main floor.

“No news yet. I was hoping to have some to deliver before today, but Tony’s being tight-lipped about the whole thing.”

“I suppose ‘no news is good news’ might be a good outlook to have right now,” the King told him wisely. “And speaking of good news, I hope this would suffice for now?” He gestured for Steve to enter into a brightly lit room off a glass-pane hallway on the second floor.

“Bucky?”

The hair was longer, the beard had grown as well, but the most jarring contrast to the lost and tortured man he had left in Wakanda’s care a month ago was the way Bucky’s face lit up, a broad grin on his face as Steve entered the room.

“Steve!”

The two men shared a warm hug, Steve’s eyes wide at the transformation that had taken hold of his friend. “Wow, Buck, you look…”

“Semi-stable?” he said with a laugh, Steve’s smile matching his.

“I’m glad to see you, Bucky.”

“The procedure was fortuitous, thanks to the efforts of my sister, Princess Shuri. She developed a formula that enabled her to de-stabilize HYDRA’s programming within the neuron sensors of Sergeant Barnes’ brain,” T’Challa explained. “Of course, she then went on to expand the possibilities for further brain analysis and recovery.”

“Smart girl,” a familiar voice was heard behind them, and they all turned to see Tony Stark standing at the door frame.

“Mr. Stark, welcome,” T’Challa walked forward, as Tony greeted him with a “Your Highness.” As they exchanged pleasantries, Steve felt Bucky’s change in demeanor almost instantly.

Tony was supposed to be back at the Compound, with you. Healing you. Working on your mind, with Bruce and Wanda. And if he was here now…

Bucky refrained from revealing the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the smile that had made his face glow earlier now vanished.

You had said your goodbyes. You both knew it was a long shot, both your recovery and his. You’d spent those last few hours in the hospital, wrapped in each other’s arms, foolishly trying to make up for lost time that you’d never get back. The last dream of your tragic fantasy. Just one more night. It was all he could give you. And it looked like that was all he’d be left with now.

He knew he couldn’t hide the crestfallen expression on his face for too long. So Bucky settled on a neutral question he didn’t much care to know the answer to. “What are you doing here?”

“Geez, why the glum face, sourpuss? Not happy to see me?” Tony said in mock indignation, as the King took his leave.

Steve, taking notice of Bucky’s miserable demeanor, spoke up. “Tony, how’s–”

“Isn’t this place amazing?” Tony cut him off, walking past them to look out the glass windows in the corridor. “Advanced mining resources, endless vibranium at your fingertips, scientific miracles in health and medicine.” He turned to glance at Bucky, who was still looking vacantly at him. “Or so I hear?”

Bucky nodded absentmindedly.

“Tony–”

“That Shuri really knows her stuff.” Steve frowned at Tony’s interruption, as he moved further down the hall. “D’you know she took my original Ultron algorithm and modified it to deprogram your brain–?” He glanced back at them, noticing that they weren’t following him, Steve just glaring at him now. “What, am I talking to myself here? Keep up.” He said, and kept walking.

Steve glanced at Bucky, who now wore a puzzled look on his face, but fell in step; the two soldiers now following Tony towards the double doors of a lab at the end of the glass-lined hall.

“It’s understandable they’d like to keep all of this a secret, but keeping an entire nation off the grid isn’t going to pan out with all the outreach plans they’re looking to implement.” He led them through machines, scientists, and glass offices as he spoke, Bucky and Steve in step. They spied Sam through one of the glass windows. He nodded at them with a smile as they walked by, before going back to the digital diagram of his Falcon jetpack in front of him, and the dark haired beauty that was making adjustments to it.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” Steve, having had enough of the runaround, held Bucky back, though he was still looking around at the technological marvels that surrounded them.

He hadn’t been to this side of the palace before, being confined mostly to the medical bay, and his cottage on the outskirts of the grounds. He was now looking at a group of Wakandan scientists, experimenting with what he surmised were a few weapons prototypes; miniature energy absorption explosives, reminding him briefly of the grenades you’d both built together in Romania.

_Y/N would have loved this_ , he couldn’t help but think morosely. Wishing he could share this moment with you, he could barely contain a shuddering sigh of remorse.

“Oh, you got someplace to be?” Tony’s mischievous tone didn’t escape them. “I just thought you’d like to meet Stark Industries’ newest R&D Head Liaison.” At this point he could barely contain the goofy smile creeping on his face.

He pressed his finger to a plate and opened a second set of double doors, revealing a large laboratory, multiple 3-D Printers, workbenches and highly advanced apparatuses lining the walls. But it was the person at the far end of the room, tinkering around with a holo-screen, that made Bucky push past Tony and Steve, running straight inside.

***

“B, pull up schematic #597, and initiate testing sequence,” you called out to your old pal, who was anything but old at this point. Wakanda was beyond advanced when it came to technology, and the welcome additions and security safeguards to further upgrade your software were serving BaBs and Stark Industries very well indeed.

You knew it had been touch-and-go for awhile; Wanda had needed almost as long as you to recover after working on repairing the frayed nerve endings, while the neurosurgeons backed her up with precision stitching. You’d been semi-conscious during the whole thing; open cerebral surgery was hard to achieve if you were under.

You’d wondered if Bucky was going through similar torturous procedures, if he was thinking of you. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, so you didn’t ask, figuring they’d give you news as they were received. And once you were discharged, having made a full recovery, Tony gave you a job. You didn’t give yourself time to grieve… And when they set you up in Wakanda, you figured it would only be a matter of time before you found out. There was a lingering sense within your mind as soon as you arrived; you could feel Bucky’s presence, but never really got to see him at all. Maybe that was good enough for you. Maybe it had to be.

You heard the doors open behind you, as you adjusted your equipment for the sequence, and were about to snap at whoever was interrupting the testing sequence, when the reflection of light blue eyes on the glass in front of you made you stop what you were doing.

Was your mind playing tricks on you again? This was supposed to have stopped already. You couldn’t help but shut your eyes, shaking your head slightly, to make sure this wasn’t another cruel manifestation of your own design.

But when you opened them, he was still there, now barely able to contain a small smile, tears shining in his eyes, making them brighter than ever before.

You turned, scarcely able to believe it, moving towards the glass; BaBs opening the glass enclosure, removing all obstacles between you two.

Tony nudged Steve, motioning for him to follow him outside. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy.” Steve, taking a huge deep breath of relief at the sight of his reunited friends, smiled, and followed suit, the doors closing behind him.

There was silence for a moment, only interrupted by the various beeps and whirrs around the room. He looked so different… yet you could spy the young man from those Smithsonian reels shining through those blue eyes. No more darkness, or at least not any that was rushing to the surface. Not now. 

Bucky steadied himself before speaking up. “Are you…?”

You nodded. “You…?

“Well on my way.”

You smiled at that. “Never enough for you, huh?” He took a step closer to you, and you couldn’t help but breathe him in. You’d missed that smell.

“Never,” he said, his roguish smirk making you chuckle, as you reached out to stroke his face. He leaned in to your hand, holding it to his cheek, and pressing it to his lips for a swift kiss. “I thought I’d lost you, Y/N.”

You let yourself be pulled into his embrace, eyes scanning his face and letting yourself sink into his warmth, for what you hoped would be forever this time.

“Well,” you breathed, as he pressed a tender kiss on your forehead, before leaning down towards your lips. “You found me.”

***

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm transferring my first fanfic ever from Tumblr over here, seeing as how it's getting more and more difficult to get work seen over there. Thanks so much for reading!  
> \--BJ  
> Start Date: 7/21/18  
> End Date: 10/31/18


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